Price of Freedom
by stormyheavens
Summary: For Sinbad, it was financial disaster in the making. For Aisha, it was a promise. Sinbad/OC
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Well. I wasn't planning to publish this one so soon, but given how many times I ended up opening the file just to change a few words, I figured I might as well. Updates are planned to be weekly. Total of chapters 6, but it might end up being 7.

Before you start reading this, there may be two things you need to know.

First, fic is set **during SnB** , right where the anime left off. Manga-wise, sometime around **chapter 56 and onward.**

Second, themes such as prostitution and slavery are gonna be featured right from the start. M rating is there for a reason, and not just the smut.

Last, this is the first time I've written an actual fic with an OC as a main character. I'm trying hard not to cross into the Mary Sue domain, so if you have any comments, critics, advice or complaints, please share. I'm hungry for advice (attention, more like... I'm kinda like that puppy trying to jump in your lap while you're busy on your laptop... yea, you get the idea) Errr. Yea. Anything ya wanna say, do it. I don't bite. I'm too scared to do that.

* * *

The cheers as the top went down could've easily compared to the victory cheers in the colosseum. Several men threw themselves down to grab the bra, others toppled over each other to catch sight of bare nipples, while the dancer jiggled the night away.

Aisha hid a lazy yawn, occasionally drumming her fingers against the bar. A particular pair of sailors seemed to be going at each other's throat every other minute, with words such as 'pummel', 'blood' and 'ya bastard' thrown every few minutes, but no fight ever got a chance to break out. Either their friends got in the way, or, like just now, Marina did, with a sugary smile and a twist of hips that left every male in vicinity staring.

Judging by the smug little smile as she headed towards Aisha and the bar, she enjoyed the attention just as well.

Staring at the pile of dirty mugs the redhead had brought along, Aisha grimaced. "Oh, great. Say, Mari, what do you think will be more fun? Washing those mugs or throwing them at that asshat's head? I reckon I have pretty good aim by now."

Marina glanced over her shoulder, fiery red lock falling out of the delicately styled hair. "Are you talking about the boss or Nadir?"

"Aren't they both the same?" Aisha froze, eyes widening a fraction. "Wait. Nadir is here?"

Marina nodded, gesturing somewhere behind her back. "Getting drunk over there, table two. He's a pretty sorry sight, to be honest. But if you didn't know that, means it's the boss. What happened this time?"

"You heard him, Mari. Everyone's working tonight. And by work, I mean _work_." Elbows resting up on the wooden surface, Aisha cradled her head. A desolate sigh escaped her. "I really want to take one of those stools you're sitting on and hit him with it."

The expression on Marina settled on something between tired and resignated. "Well, I can imagine you're tired, we all are… he still owes you those two breaks, too—"

"Oh, leave me out of it, I can deal with an extra customer or two. When he says everyone, he means _everyone_. Do you see my problem?"

The dry look she received was a clear sign Marina didn't, not by a long shot. But Marina wouldn't be her best friend if she couldn't make an educated guess, and judging by the comically wide eyes, she figured it out just as well.

"Oh my god, Mel! Don't tell me he's actually—"

Aisha nodded grimly.

"But—"

"I _tried_ ," Aisha cut her off, rubbing at her aching temples. "I told him she's too inexperienced for this. I told him there's no point sending her up in a room, she wouldn't know what to do. She's just a kid. Frightened out of her mind, too. But _no_. All he's thinking of is money, money, _money_ and with the guys from Sindria here, who can blame him?"

"Aisha, sweetie, you did what you could—"

" _Hell_ if I did. I did nothing whatsoever," she hissed. "What gets me the most, he's _right_. With the right clientele, she'd fetch a higher price for an evening than you and I could get for a week, and we _need_ the money. But Sindria guys are… Damn it. They're a lot of things. They're needy, they're generous and they're kinky as hell. But pedophiles they're _not_. Now if only I could get that through his thick skull…"

Marina shot her a look full of gentle sympathy, before turning towards the main area in search, not that finding her took effort. Mel zoomed from one table to another, thin skirt flowing behind her, but she never stayed long enough to give anyone an opportunity to get a good look at her, let alone touch her.

Her plan would've been clever, too, if the boss hadn't caught onto it. Hunching in his dark corner, he nursed a beer with one of the dirtiest frowns Aisha had ever seen on his face, but he had yet to get off his fat ass. For as long as he kept at it, she decided not to move, either, but with every passing hour, it got more difficult to ignore the silent cries for help.

"I have to do something," she decided. "If he's not listening to reason, I need to think of something else. Sinbad and his boys won't do anything, but those guys at table thirteen are giving me the creeps."

Marina glanced towards the table in question, then the boss, soft frown to her exotic features. "Don't be that way, sweetie. Mel is a slave, there's nothing we can do."

"She's a twelve year old kid, damn it," Aisha argued, boiling rage threatening to consume her. "I've been there, you've been there, you _know_ how helpless it makes you feel when people look at you like you're less than human. I can't sit back and pretend I don't see it, Mari. I _can't_."

In Marina's eyes, glimmer of painful memories stirring under the surface. Hope helped quell some of the rage making Aisha's blood boil, entire body tense, urging her to do _something_ , whatever that something may be. But Marina looked down at her feet and said nothing.

"Mari?" Aisha tried, almost desperately.

"I know." Her best friend wouldn't look up. Without looking away from the bar, she said, "Boss is looking this way. He looks in a bad enough mood already, don't make it worse."

"Mari…"

"I need three beers and Balbadd's new special. Then I'll come back for another round of beers."

Aisha nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Last thing she wanted was to unintentionally say things she didn't mean. Focusing on the beer barrel instead of the constricting in her throat and violent need to speak her mind to somebody, she tried to reason it out to herself.

Mel was nothing but a slave, a property. She was a thing, not a human, somebody whose right to make any choice of her own had been cruelly stolen, never to be returned. And if Aisha tried to do anything about it, not only would she break several laws, she'd risk the same fate upon herself.

 _Not again. I can't go through that again, I_ can't…

But she couldn't very well ignore a child in similar distress, no matter how much she'd love to.

"Sweetie, please don't be reckless," Marina said. "I know this isn't okay with you, it's not okay with any of us. But you can't get rid of every bad thing in this world."

"I know…"

"And if you do, you should also know being passive aggressive about it isn't going to help fix anything. I don't know what you just added in those beers, but it better not be anything dangerous. But how you knew they're for table thirteen is beyond me."

Aisha winced.

 _Damn that Marina, perceptive as always._

She hid the powder back in the tiny wooden compartment, handing her the tray with a blank expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Your boys are getting a little impatient, by the way."

Marina's head snapped back, the curses coming out of her mouth something she could've only picked up from hanging around sailors a tad too often. Aisha filed that one for later, in case she needed some bribery material for the chores, again.

"This is the last time I cover for you, I swear." The glare might as well had been a promise.

Aisha performed a smug little wave, smile dropping the moment Marina rushed away. She scowled at the pile of dirty mugs like they'd done her a mortal offense, but as much as she'd like them to, they wouldn't wash themselves.

 _And there's at least as many in the main area_.

Given the hungry looks at table thirteen, Aisha suspected Marina wouldn't get a chance to pick them up. Kath either, given the amount of attention her jiggly dance had gotten. And Mel was still taking orders, quill shakily held between twitchy, thin fingers.

 _A kid who can write, huh?_

Moreover, a _slave_ who could write. That spoke volumes alone. Writing was a rarity, even among Napolia's citizen. Whatever price the boss paid for her, it hadn't been cheap. _No wonder we're still neck deep in debts, damn it._

The marks she spied under the obsidian locks of hair looked painful, but it only added another layer of crucial intel. _Whipped, and often. But she's too clever to be inefficient. Which means either her old master was a nasty piece of work, or she's got a rebellious streak hidden somewhere._

Or both. Likely the worst possible option to boot.

Coupled with how suddenly she'd showed up, somebody should've come to stand next to her and wave a flag saying 'I'm special'. It would've been less obvious.

An idle wave in the main area caught Aisha's attention, one of the Sindria tables. One glance to confirm the girls were too busy, edge of her lip curved. Most of the girls hadn't noticed, but the boss did. Yet he did nothing, the idiot.

 _Oh boy, I'm going to get in trouble for this._

But the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Aisha picked the empty tray from the set and hurried towards the table in question, shooting a pointed glare towards the crouching moron of her boss as she walked past him. The sputtering was almost satisfying.

The annoying ache flared in her legs, reminder how long she'd been standing in place. The skirt kept slipping, and she would've tripped, twice, if not for the scarf tied tight around her waist, uncomfortably tight. _Did I lose weight again? Shit, now's not the time—_

Fixing a welcoming smile, she offered a little bow.

"Good evening, gentlemen, what may I get you?"

The joyous faces that greeted her were almost endearing. Would've been, no doubt, if all the occupants hadn't been so darned young. And staring. The redheaded teen hiccuped once, blushed, then tried to hide his face behind his Imuchakk friend — who seemed to have gotten into a glaring contest with an empty mug. Huh.

Aisha stubbornly ignored Sinbad leering, but his little hum was all too loud in her ears, and that infuriating grin might as well had been challenging her to take that tray and slam it in his face.

Apparently realizing she wasn't going to treat him any different than usual, he sighed. "I heard there's this new wine on the market here. Would you recommend?"

Smirk tugged at the corner of her lip. "You're going to have to be a little more specific. We've got some new stuff from Balbadd, some supplies imported from Oasis Cities and there's this new line from Mariadel, but it's not that much of a change." One of his friends twitched. Aisha grinned. "Yeah, I don't like it much either. If I had to pick, I'd take Balbadd's special every time. Careful, though. Not cheap."

Which was putting it mildly. Cheap with her usually referred to average prices and something deemed 'not cheap' would be better defined as expensive like hell. But if Sinbad hadn't learned that by now, that was his own fault.

The look he shared with his friends confirmed it. "Well, Harun did always claim Balbadd's wine is the best… Make it double for everyone."

His Imuchakk friend blanched, and the rest of the smiles dropped in sync.

" _Double_? If Rurumu hears about this…"

Sinbad's smile lingered for a moment longer, twitching. "I'm sure it's going to be fine. We just got back and she's on a leave…"

Aisha left them to figure it out, eyes focusing on Mel while the girl to approach the table in a poorly concealed call for help. Quick, subtle nod that she hoped the girl caught, she smiled charmingly at the guys.

"Double coming. This might take a bit longer, please don't get impatient."

Long hair drifting behind her, Mel fell in step with her almost immediately, clutching the tray to her chest, crumpled piece of paper only evidence of how badly she was shaking. "Aisha, I'm — I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But, everyone… they keep _looking_ and the boss, he wants… I can't, I—"

"Shhh, easy. Calm down. You're tired, right?"

"Ye-yes. I just—"

"It's fine, you don't have to explain. I showed you where I live, right? The key is in your pouch."

Mel froze, tearful eyes widening, so much visible relief in her body language. It physically hurt to see the hope disappear almost as quickly when she looked towards the bar. "I— I can't. I'll get in trouble. _You'll_ get in trouble, I—"

"You can." Shooting an impatient look at the boss, Aisha gestured towards a table with half a dozen empty mugs waiting to be picked up and ushered the girl to follow. Anything, for as long as it could buy more time.

"Listen, Mel. Boss is at the bar now, I'll make sure he stays there. You hang around the left side, okay? Tables one through four, he can't see you there. Wait until somebody goes upstairs, Marina, Shelly, me, doesn't matter. As soon as one of us goes, he'll be too busy to watch either way. "

In spite of the initial fear, the girl quickly caught onto Aisha's intentions, just another proof that the slavery might've hurt her, but it hadn't broken her. Not yet. Aisha almost sagged in relief, right then and there.

Thoughtful frown on her face, Mel cast another look towards the bar. "Bu-but what if he sees me run? What if he notices—"

"He won't. He doesn't look like it, but he's a little shortsighted. My hair color's the only reason he's watching us like a hawk to start with," Aisha assured her gently. "It'll be okay, I promise. As soon as one of us goes up, run for it. Marina lives with me and she's free from cleaning duty today, she'll send you back in time before anyone notices."

Mel nodded shakily, blinking a pair of tears away. "Thank you. _Thank you—_ "

"Shhh, don't worry about it. Now go back to Sin's—err, table nine for me, please. I didn't get the empty mugs there."

Mel obliged without a word, but couldn't help stealing one more fearful glance towards the boss. Aisha sighed, straightened her back, and marched back with the most neutral of faces she could pull.

Dirty mugs hit the wood right in front of him as Aisha piled down mug after mug, high enough to reach the tip of his fat nose, before he could get a rant started.

"Nobody was going see it in time," she stressed. "If you were going to take the bar, you should've done it hours ago."

Dark eyes narrowed at her, thick brows scrunched together under the uncontrollable mane of dark hair. "I don't like what you're up to, Aisha. I can see you helping that slave—"

"That _slave,_ as you call her, is barely standing on her feet, no thanks to you. Give her a break."

"Yeah, and give her a chance to run? Fuck no. She already ran from her masters, _twice_. I'm not going to be third one."

Looking up from where she'd nearly spilled the wine, Aisha bristled with barely contained rage. "Oh, so that's why? Should've thought of that before you, I dunno, put her to work for _forty eight_ fucking hours."

"I'm doing what _needs_ to be done—"

"First of all, she's a kid," Aisha began. "Think Shelly, age twelve, and be happy this one is too scared to throw a fit—"

"She _better_ be fucking shivering in fear, I'm not letting her _run_ after all the money I wasted—"

"Second," Aisha cut in, voice razor sharp, "You want her to earn you money, right? You're doing it _wrong_. At this rate, you lose more than you gain, again, and I'm done picking up the pieces. Either you're going to start thinking, or I'll _force_ you."

Fire burning in his eyes, huge fists clenched tight, but Aisha refused to flinch in spite of his leaning forward. All her hard work would go to waste if he caught only a whiff of fear anywhere on her person.

"If I wanted to listen to your bitching, I would've put you in charge here instead of Shelly—"

"And if you'd done that, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Aisha fumed. Almost immediately wanted to smack herself, but some things needed to be said. Except now wasn't the time, there were too many customers, many undoubtedly listening, and she'd willingly eat her her dress if Sinbad hadn't noticed any of this happen.

She sighed, forcing her body to relax.

"You know what? No. I'm done. Your business, your call. Now excuse me, while I go fix another one of your fuck-ups. Don't worry. I won't be doing that again, anytime soon."

Hair whipping against his arm, she looked everywhere but at Mel as she headed towards the table in the middle. Poor girl had more than enough to worry about.

Sinbad grinned when he noticed her coming, his general disposition the only positive side to her night at this moment. "I thought you said it would take you longer," he noted with interest, patting the tiny bit of space beside him. "Won't you join us for a bit?"

Aisha's eyebrows shot up as she handed each of them a mug, light smirk stretching her lips. "I thought you and I had a deal."

"Why, I don't see how that's breaching any of the conditions. Do you?"

Aisha shrugged, letting him pull her into what little free space on the cushion remained, but she suspected that was nothing short of intentional. Confirmed it, when he draped an arm around her shoulders and pressed his nose against her neck, soft lips brushing the skin so lightly, she almost mistook it for her own wistfulness.

"You've been a little testy all night," he breathed against her neck, the scent of alcohol on his breath strong. "Your boss is also looking this way. Again. Did something happen?"

"It's not like this place can't go a week without us butting our heads about something."

She brushed the bits of hair from his cheek, trying and failing to keep her hand from lingering a moment too long. "How was Sasan?" she asked, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes. "I heard the deal worked out, but I wanna hear the details."

The grin on his face was practically infectious. "I'll have to tell you that story sometime. But not now."

Fingers playing with the gently curled ends of her hair, she couldn't help the smile as he dropped his head on her shoulder, other hand playing with the jewels sewn into her top. His rhythmic breathing was almost enough to calm her own raging heart.

"Honestly wasn't expecting I'd find you here," he mumbled in her skin. "Thought you'd be long gone by now. How come?"

"Things got a little complicated, I guess." she allowed, fingers gently brushing through the soft silk that was his hair, something that had quickly become an addictive habit. Soft butterfly kisses prickled her skin, the twisting in her gut almost inviting her to start something she'd rather avoid, if at all possible. Not likely, considering his reputation, but it was worth a try. Last thing she needed was accusations she was picking favorites.

Trying to pry his mouth from her neck, uselessly, she huffed. "It's fine, Sin. You can stop." Heaven knew boss got prickly about how much playing around he'd allow in the main area, but Sinbad was _stubborn_. "Seriously. You keep this up, next on his list of complaints will be why I didn't take the key—"

"Then take it," he said, pausing just long enough to lift his head and look her dead in the eye. "You know I'd never turn down a lady in need."

If she didn't know any better, she would've thought all that alcohol he'd swallowed had no effect whatsoever. Still, she smirked.

"Does that also count for ink supplies? Cause I'm all out of that shiny new ink—ow, okay, okay. Fine. _Fine,_ Sin, damn it. Stop _tickling!_ "

Fingers lingered against the naked skin of her waist, his grin was positively feral. She wanted to go up, she _needed_ to get away from the main area, not to mention the money, but did it really have to be Sinbad?

Ah hell, given his tendencies, it was only a matter of time.

"Fine," she sighed. "But before we go, you gotta know. I got no less than three warnings to stay away from you," she managed, in spite of the gentle caresses. "If you're sure about letting me get that key, you better have some good excuses ready, because when those girls come asking for explanations, I'm blaming you."

He twitched, prying his face from her neck just long enough to give her a look that might as well had been begging for pity. "Will apologizing ahead do?"

"Absolutely not. "

Hopes crushed, he paused to think it over for a minute longer, before nodding solemnly. "Okay. If anyone causes you trouble, I'll take care of it. Any other problem?"

And, damn it all, she should've been prepared for that one. Skirt chaser, down to every last cell in his body.

"I'm not letting you sleep here. Nuh-uh. Not happening."

"Eh? Why not?"

"You finished four mugs, Sin. _Four_. You're not going to feel it right away, but when you do, it's not going to be nice, and I won't have the time in the morning to take care of that, too. Unless if you've got some magic cure hidden in your pocket, in which case let me know, so I can join you for drinks and enjoy the no-consequences privilege."

He snorted, climbing to his feet and pulling her along. " _You_ can join anytime." Pausing a step in, he frowned. "I don't need to worry you'll take that as a proposal, do I?"

"I'd have to be an absolute _idiot_ to expect a proposal from you."

"... Rude."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But true. Well, maybe not quite, you're drunk, and as rumors have it, you say a _lot_ of things when drunk."

The sputtering embarrassment she'd been hoping for never came, but the pout worked well enough as a consolation prize. " _Not_ true."

Apparently realizing that'd never convince her, he sighed. "Well, maybe I'm drunk, and you're rude, but you're still cute."

"Uh-huh," Aisha nodded breezily. "Of course I am, since those two tend to have an interchangeable meaning in your vocabulary. Do you still coo over things trying to kill you? I've been informed that's quite a hazardous occupation these days."

"… You're really on a roll today, huh."

"Aw, but you like it." She flashed an innocent grin and dragged him along, dangling the key on her finger for a bit of flair.

"I'll admit it's a little enticing," he offered.

"Yeah, yeah."

Squeezing his hand gently, she tugged him along the stairs, in a hurry to get away from all the prying eyes. He wasn't shy about using the opportunity the proximity gave him, and she could do without people figuring out he was far, _far_ more than just another random customer.

Except right now, he really ought to be no more than that.

So why did he feel like her last hope? On the day she met him, she'd promised — no, she _swore_ she'd never get him involved in her mess. Given how much trouble he'd unknowingly saved her from, she owed him that.

 _But he has the means. If I ask, maybe he'll want to help, or at least find somebody who else willing to help..._

Problem with that lay in the fact he wasn't the type to get in trouble with the law, not willingly. Even when he'd first shown up in the streets of Napolia, he'd tried hard to keep everything prim and proper, when many other options were available.

But now he was drunk, with temporary release only thing in mind. A few good word choices and a nudge here and there, chances he'd agree grew exponentially higher. But she couldn't use him like that. Not him.

Throat constricting, she lingered at the door, indecision almost paralyzing.

Too long, because his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Impatiently, his fingers slipped past the waistband, exploring touch both familiar and addictive, yet it didn't feel right. She had yet to make a move at all, but guilt suffocated her, fixed her in place and refused to let her move. Hot lips burned wherever they touched, stimulating, distracting, and she'd give everything for a little distraction right about now.

 _No. Focus. It's not fair. But he's the best you've got._

"Say, Sin…"

If he noticed how breathless she was, he showed no sign of it. His fingers tangled in her hair, gently scraping along her skull, drawing a breath she hadn't intended to release. She leaned against him when his teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breath shivering as she tried to regain any sense of purpose.

"Sin?" It was almost impossible to speak, but she couldn't stop now. "Sin… hey…" Soft hum against her skin was the only acknowledgment she got, but it served it purpose. Aisha steeled her nerves and sighed. "Would you meet me tomorrow, the usual spot? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Hot lips traveling up to her ear, hot breath laced with alcohol hit her cheek. "You _are_ in trouble," he slurred. "Who would've known."

"I'm _not_ ," she said, desperately, but it came out pathetic. "Not yet."

"How bad?"

"… On a scale from missing earrings to _help, a fire monster is trying to eat me alive_? Probably a pack of Maurenian tigers after my neck. And they have these long, pointy, _venomous_ teeth…"

Caressing stopped, firm hands coming to rest on her hips. The soft rumble in his throat as he laughed sent shivers racing down her spine. "Good thing I beat a dragon, in that case."

Hysterical laughter bubbling up, Aisha fought the urge pull him in a bone crushing hug, profusely apologize and kiss him full on the lips, all at the same time.

"Yeah, isn't it?" she choked out.

Turning around to face him, she peered into the molten gold of his eyes, allowing the unshakable confidence to engulf her. Heart threatening to beat out of her chest, she climbed on her toes, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks, Sin. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Eyes dancing, he grinned. "You could start by opening that door."

"With pleasure."


	2. Chapter 2

_Two days ago_

Vibrant sun entered the room through thin drapes, lighting up the main area in lively light. The glass tank in the corner reflected most of it, lighting up the entirety of the space in a rainbow of colors, occasionally shifting as its occupants stirred. In contrast, most of the girls taking up the couches fought a losing battle against drowsiness, some going as far as to to lay on the tables and get their much needed rest.

Aisha slipped in and out of consciousness, occasionally blowing off the lock of hair that stubbornly tickled her nose. The bar was far from comfortable, her muscles ached and her stomach demanded food, but keeping her eyes open had been a daunting task she'd simply failed to do. Turned out that even cold, hard wood worked well as an improvised bed when she had no better options.

Ear-piercing claps rang, startling her, Shelly's voice singing along. "Come on, girls, this is no time to be asleep! Boss is coming back, I want you all up and about!"

Beside Aisha, Marina stirred, the series of curses slipping under her breath almost worth putting some effort into listening.

Shelly's sharp voice carried throughout the main area, distance thankfully muffling it, but Marina's grumbling ended up being far more distracting. Just when Aisha hoped she was done, Marina elbowed her in the ribs.

"Ow. Why—"

"Boss is here. Get up."

Rubbing at the aching spot, Aisha straightened, and almost slumped right back down. "I swear, next time somebody asks me to pull a shift when I'm supposed to be free, no. _Fuck no_. Not again. Never again."

The look Marina gave her reminded her of that 'oh look what you've done now' look, and Aisha soon spotted the shadow looming at the entrance. Almost like it prickled her skin, cold sweat rolled down the back of her neck, while the rest of her body went rigid. _Whoops._ Familiar gruff snort almost had her jumping out of her skin, before it turned into a guttural laugh and the door slammed shut.

"Can't walk into this place without hearing you complain about something, eh, Aisha?"

"Think of it as constructive criticism. Hell knows you need it." Wetting her lips, she tried to shrug off the exhaustion. "How was Remano, boss? Did you get us any gifts?"

The grin on his face turned borderline animalistic, cutting his face in half. Untamed mane of angry dark hair, exhausted but sparkling eyes and sharp teeth further added to the impression. Considering how rarely he looked that self-satisfied, Aisha couldn't decide whether she should be celebrating or cowering in fear.

"As a matter of fact, I did," he said. "Come on out, ya filthy little scum. Say hello to your new lady friends."

Yanking forward, a girl no older than thirteen stumbled, uselessly trying to wrench her wrist free. Boos watched her struggle like a tiny little mouse already long ago caught by the twisted feline. Aisha's gut twisted, Marina grabbing her elbow the only thing that stopped her from launching forward.

"This, my ladies," he began, "is our newest associate. Filthy little brat is a slave, so treat her accordingly. Clean her up too, can't show _this_ in front of the customers."

Done with her resistance, the boss slapped her on the back, drawing a scream. Thin, knobby knees buckled.

Aisha didn't have the time to think. Shoot out, arms open, catch the poor, shivering child before she fell, the small body entirely too light on her exhausted arms.

"What the… what…?" Aisha's breath caught in her throat.

Much of the child's skin on display was hidden under a layer of dust, mud and dry blood. Dark bruise stuck out on her muddy face, wild obsidian hair full of dirt crumbs, tiny branches and leaves. She was no more than skin and bone and hell of a lot of hatred, but her pathetic state would never let her act on it.

Aisha looked to the boss in demand for explanation, but the grin on his face was entirely too pleased.

"I want her trained well. All down, from dumb shit like how to clean the bar right to what ya gotta do when a customer says they want some sweet juices flowing. Since you've already got a bunch of complaints, I'm leaving it to you, Aisha sweetie. You're pretty damn good at telling people where they went wrong, aren't ya?"

Mouth hanging open, she tried to argue back, but no words came out. Too much, too fast, all at the same time, and that poor kid looked like she hadn't slept in a week—

"Tonight we're back on regular schedule, ladies. No fucking tardiness! Last week was the last I tolerated!"

Door slammed shut and any objections, complaints or _screams_ she wanted to deliver, died on her lips. The girl in her arms was shivering badly, and bleeding, somewhere, because Aisha could feel the sticky warmth on her fingers. Gut twisting, it was all she could do to stay calm. Now wasn't the time to lose her composure.

"Come on. We need to have that back looked at, immediately," she choked out, helping the girl straighten and wincing the pained grimace on her face. "Do you know where you are? This is Napolia, in Reim. We're in a bar called Red Velvet. My name is Aisha. Would you tell me yours?"

Green eyes full of unshed tears would've killed her with that glare, if only they could have, but as it was, all the girl could do was blink the water away and grit her teeth.

"Mel," she growled, the spot where her canine should've been a gaping hole. Aisha nodded solemnly, twisting her hand until the wristlock turned into a handshake, small smile on her face.

"Thank you." Squeezing the tiny, ice-cold hand, she struggled to take a breath. "Let's go."

* * *

 _Present_

Aisha blinked the still vivid imagery away, spinning on her stomach in search for the quickest, most effective distraction available. The rough sheets scratched at the sensitive skin, some of the long hair pulling a little, no surprise considering how badly it had tangled with the covers.

As it turned out, distraction wasn't too difficult to find, not with Sinbad still half naked in the room., Fine muscles flexed under the perfect skin as he pulled his pants back on, and Aisha hid a tiny little sigh as he straightened. Maybe, in some ways, he was perfection incarnate, but it wouldn't do to boost his ego anymore than she already had.

His eyebrows shot up, lips quirking in amusement. "I thought you said no staring."

"Downstairs, yes. You don't want my boss knocking on your door with a business idea, trust me. Upstairs, everything's fair game." Much of her amusement dissipated when he pulled a shirt on. "Talk, Sin. What unspeakable atrocities have you committed in your awfully short life to get muscles like _that_? Because boy, I've seen you swing that sword and you're only slightly better than a complete amateur. So. Spill it."

"What? You can't accept that mother nature blessed me with dashing good looks?"

"Cursed, more like. You sure it isn't that Djinn magic making you so handsome? All I seem to remember is a lanky little kid—"

" _Oi_! That was _last year_. I've grown! That has nothing to do with magic! You, on the other hand, haven't changed one bit."

Ear to ear grin threatened to split her face apart. "Advantages of having a baby face, my boy. One day I'll hit eighty and people will still believe me when I say I'm nineteen."

"Oh, I'm willing to take that bet. Can't wait to see them throw a fit over all those wrinkles—" A pillow hit him straight in the face. "Ow."

Aisha pouted. "You deserved that one."

Frowning at the bundle, he seemed to contemplate it for a moment, before looking back at her face. "You don't want to start a pillow fight with me. You don't."

"What? Afraid you'll lose to just a _girl_?"

"It's a question of manners—"

A loud bang echoed throughout the room, followed by a series of muffled shouts. Exchanging concerned looks with the boy who was most definitely not supposed to be there for so long, Aisha shot up, pulling the covers with her as she crossed the room to peek out the door, but saw nothing.

More muffled noises reached them all the way down from the main area, including Shelly's shrill yell, urging the others to remain calm. Slamming the door shut, Aisha wrecked her mind for excuses, but Sinbad already had the scrutinizing look on his face. Any humor from the situation got wiped clean off.

"He's doing it again, isn't he? If he's beating up the girls again, I can't—"

"You're going to stay out of it," Aisha cut him off. This was _not_ going to end well, she just knew it. "If I have to force you out of here, I'll do it, but you're not getting involved with this. Absolutely not. He's a scumbag and a lowlife, and no pep talk you can give him would ever work—"

"Oh, I can do far more than that—"

"You _won't_. You promised."

She leaned back against the door, not allowing his hand anywhere near the door handle. The intent in his eyes threatened to suffocate her, but no matter what he did, she wouldn't move a single step. In any other situation, his need for involvement would be more than welcome, but right now, she'd have none of it.

His eyes narrowed into slits, but he didn't try to push the issue, thankfully.

"You're still here," he said. "It's been almost a year, and you're still here. Why?"

"I told you. Things got complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"I'm sorry, I don't want to tell you that."

If she'd been expecting him to throw a fit, it came as a relief to see him sigh. He wouldn't push for answers, he was much to decent a person to do that, but if she'd learned anything about him over the time they'd known each other, it was that he always got his way in the end. Which, all in all, could only go two ways. Either she talked, or she didn't, and he'd be dealing with a headache either way.

Eyes drifting to the hand stubbornly keeping the covers tightly wrapped around herself, he sighed again. "I'm not going to insist for answers. But you're not somebody who can be tamed by violence alone. What's holding you here? Is it that new girl? By the way, I didn't think you employed children—"

"Mel has nothing to do with it!"

Aisha froze, hand flying to cover her mouth. The widening in his eyes was the first sign that she'd gone too far. Not only had she just confirmed Mel had _plenty_ to do with the entire mess, but she'd shown cracks in composure. She'd lost her cool. And she could _never_ lose her cool, her position relied too much on her keeping up the calm, rational, _determined_ mask on her face, at any moment of any day. To lose it, even momentarily…

Strong arms wrapping around her tense body was the second.

Fighting against herself, she leaned into his embrace, muscles unclenching as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. The invitation to just break down and spill everything was almost overwhelming, but she held on with the last of the strength she had, not returning the embrace, but not trying to escape it, either. He felt too warm, too familiar, too much like home, for her to deny that she trusted him far more than she ought to.

Head falling against his chest, shuddering breath escaped her. If she could, she'd like to stay that way, just a moment longer.

"Talk to me," he encouraged. "I thought you said we're partners in crime. Partners talk to each other when in trouble."

"I was kidding."

"You weren't. And neither was I. When I said I'd help, I meant it."

Aisha bit her lip, hands gripping onto his shirt for support as she hid her face in his shoulder. The gentle brushing of her hair helped calm her in ways she'd never thought possible. "I chose to stay," she whispered, finally. "Nobody forced me. Nobody asked me."

"Why?"

"Money. Connections. And now Mel, too. I can't leave her alone in this place."

"Sindria can help." Hand cupping her cheek, Sinbad tilted her chin up, gold eyes full of understanding, but Aisha stubbornly buried her face back in his shirt.

"This is bigger than you think, Sin," she said. "It's not about me. It's not about the girls. The amount of money involved, the type of people involved… Mel is my only lead and she won't say, but I'm not blind. This…"

The words caught in her throat, she simply couldn't go on. It was ridiculous, that it was Sinbad of all people she went to for comfort. Not that this was comfort. This was business, just business, that got a little too personal, a little too fast, and she was most definitely not shivering, nor was she abusing the fact Sinbad was well known for wishing to help everyone. She was _not_.

"Those men from Remano that were here, they didn't come for the booze or the girls," she mumbled into his shirt, hoping he wouldn't hear and already knowing it was futile. "They were sitting too long, ordering too little…first I thought it was Mel, but when I started thinking, actually thinking…"

"They were checking out the place," Sinbad finished, "I know, I saw it. They didn't look like potential investors, but when you put it that way… Your boss has somebody strong behind him."

Aisha nodded.

"And you're not going to let him do it without a fight, are you?"

Yet another nod. A wavering breath escaped her. "Red Velvet is my home. I can't let him turn it into a prison."

"You're right, what you're tapping into is too big. Do you have a plan?"

"I don't know, not yet. But Shelly is in charge of finances and she's not… she's not very good at it. I can probably mess with the numbers. I just don't think it's going to be enough. Which is why I wanted to talk to you."

That startled him. "Wait, you think we can do something—"

Aisha took a step back, looking him up dead in the eye. "I'll be frank with you, Sin. I have an idea in mind, but it's too much, more than I can ask of anyone. I know you're the kind of person to put your life on the line for less, but would you take the risk when it's all your possessions on the line? I know I would, but for me, this is personal. Think it over, Sin. Think carefully. I'll be able to tell you more tonight. Usual time, usual spot? If I'm late, don't wait."

Slowly, he nodded. Already he seemed to be putting some thought into it, much to her unspoken relief. As much as she wanted his help, he needed to know what he was getting into. And if, for a moment, he thought it to be too much… Well. _It's fine. I'll be fine. Worst come to worst, I'm not afraid to run._

She really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"I'll be there," he decided, and she released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I appreciate it."

* * *

Certain things had to be said about gut feelings. For example, whenever Aisha had that inexplicable, unwavering feeling things were going to turn right, something had that awfully annoying habit of going horrifically wrong, in the worst possible way. Her mother had, long ago, called it Murphy's Law, and boy, the title had stuck.

The second thing about gut feelings had to do with that polar opposite one, when you instinctively knew something was bound to go wrong. Unfortunately for Aisha, that one was always on point.

When she came down the stairs expecting for the ceiling to crash down on her, she really shouldn't have been surprised to find a dozen pairs of eyes on her, like she was the one bearing all the answers.

The girls parted in front of her, some of them mouthing 'good luck', as if she was in for a major headache, and given her gut agreed, she probably was. The look in Marina's eyes was the clincher. Pain. Fear. Indecision. All of it, while she mouthed a "be careful" at her, like she made it a personal mission to make her own life a colossal mess. It meant that whatever was going on, it was somehow her fault, and Aisha was sick and tired of being blamed for every little thing that went wrong in the place.

 _Wait… Marina is here? Why is Marina here?_

But she could feel the boss' eyes on her, she'd have to worry about it later. Aisha walked past her best friend with her head held up, until she was standing right in front of the boss, one hand on her hip. Stoney face, he busied himself tapping his fingers against the armrest, but Aisha didn't miss the broken stool hastily pushed under a table. That must've been the noise.

"So," she began, "why is everyone looking at me like I'm in for decapitation? Come on, out with it."

Boss' eyes narrowed into slits. "Fine. I'll make it short. Where's Mel?"

"Not here, obviously." Which she should've noticed earlier, damn it all. How come Marina was here and Mel wasn't? She hadn't told Mari about the plan, but Mari fought tooth and nail for that free morning and…

 _Shit. She wouldn't argue if the boss told her to stay, not anymore. Shit, shit, shit._

Boss clicked his teeth, and suddenly the problem seemed to have increased tenfold. Considering how little he'd been worried about her wellbeing, it was stark contrast that he wanted to know her whereabouts that badly. Another in the line of clues to confirm her dreadful theory.

"Look, Aisha. We've known each other for how long now?" he hissed. "I know you, sweetie. You don't need to be in the same room to make my life miserable, you made sure I know that quite well. So let's skip the shit. You're gonna tell me where that slave is, right now, and I'm not gonna ruin your pretty face."

Aisha swallowed thickly. "If I say no?"

She noticed the fists tighten, but she didn't move. Locked her muscles in place and refused to take back a single step. The fact he hadn't gone for the violence yet meant she still had some space to wiggle in, but that would mean shit if she showed him an ounce of fear.

Fist slammed in the armrest, the crack echoing through the bar. Aisha tensed, but didn't move. Most the other girls flinched, while Kath whimpered, as he stood up, grabbing a fistful of Aisha's silvery top.

"Oh for fuck's sake! You know what I'm capable of and you still — you _bitch!_ " He pushed her back and she tried hard not to stumble, face a mask of utter calm. He glared, but none of those bulky hands tried to come near her again. "Your face is worth too fucking much to ruin, damn it all. Come on, girl, you're supposed to be smart. Defying me does you no good, you know it."

"True," Aisha allowed, "but you just said it. You know me. Hurt me if you want, I'm not telling you a word."

"Oh, fucking — did you put her on a ship already? Huh?! I know that's what you did for all the bitches I threw out of this place because they were too weak. Tell me, did you?!"

Oh boy, she might regret this, but… honesty be damned.

"No," she admitted, voice level, even if she wanted to take that piece of a broken stool and slam it in his head. "She should be back for work tonight. I won't tell you any more than that."

"You — think I can just trust you on that!?" he thundered. "She ran twice already, tried to run from me too, if you think I'd trust her anywhere on her own — I thought I could _trust_ you—"

"Oh, don't bring up the trust issue with me, you _asshole_. Do you think I'm not aware of _exactly_ what you're doing? Mel is going to be back for work in time. But you and I are going to have a _long_ talk about this new industry you're trying to get into. If you have any speck of intelligence left in that thick head of yours, you'll bail out before they swallow you. If not, well… My debt to you has been paid off long ago."

Hair whipping, she marched straight out without looking back.

The moment the door closed behind her, she couldn't stop her entire body from trembling. Almost sinking down to her knees, she hugged herself, fixed the damaged top so it would hold for a little longer. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

Part of it had to be the exhaustion. Thinking back, she hadn't gotten much sleep ever since Mel showed up. Bad memories kept coming back and looking out for the girl had ended up being a far more daunting a task than she'd prepared for.

The bigger part of it, though, was the fear. Fear of the boss and what he might do if she continued acting out this way. Fear of the demons in her own past, and the chance that something similar might happen again. The scars might be gone, but she could still feel them, searing deep in her skin. The pain might've stopped a long time ago, but memories remained, painful and vivid just as they'd been back in the day.

 _Don't. Don't think about it. It's over. You fought your way out of it before, you won't let it happen again. Right. The chains can't bind me, unless if I let them._

 _But Mel doesn't know that. I need to help her first._

And if possible, get her as far as physically possible from Red Velvet.

* * *

When she arrived home, she found the girl curled on the floor, eyes closed, breathing shallow. Hot sweat rolled down her forehead, consequence of a high fever, and Aisha cursed herself for not planning this out any better. Mel needed medical attention, immediately, but where in the world was she going to find anyone willing to help a slave?

"Mel? Mel!" No reaction, but Aisha didn't push for it. "Okay, just… stay here, okay? Yeah. I'll find a way to get the fever down."

Where did Marina put those clean rags, damn it all? She needed a rag, and some cold water—

 _Ah, there_.

Armchair pile, which meant not clean, but as long as it didn't have any obvious stains, it would have to do. She pulled, knocking along the assorted mess of dresses, jewelry and other dry goods everywhere over the floor, but that's fine, she could clean up later—

A reflection caught her eye, a single ruby, embedded in the hilt of a dagger wrapped in a makeshift scabbard. Teeth sinking in her lip, she couldn't pry her eyes away.

"You'd… approve, right? A man has to do what he has to do, you always said…" she shook her head, the nostalgia almost too much. _Later. Later._ She'd have all the time to curse the way everything turned out, later. Mel needed her now.

She was still too preoccupied with wiping the sweat and clean the inflamed whip marks when Marina joined her in the house, the juicy curses slipping past her tongue ringing through the house. "I should've known… I should've _known_ —"

"If you have nothing useful to add, there should be some castor oil left. I need something to soothe the skin, it's badly swollen."

Coming to stand behind her shoulder, Marina gasped. "Oh for the love of—this is horrible! Give me a second."

She was back after several moments and Aisha accepted the flask wordlessly. The mixture had been expensive, but it had proven to be the best remedy they had for the bruises and swollen cheeks, so hopefully it could help with this as well. Marina joined her as she gently rubbed the bits of oil in the badly damaged skin, part of her dying along with every little one of Mel's whimpers.

"He's insane," Marina breathed. "Some of these are fresh. He must've known, and he forced her to work like this—you're not really sending her back in tonight, are you?"

"Of course not. I just needed time—"

"You don't have it, Aisha. He knows it too. He'll be coming here, probably soon—"

"He _WHAT?!_ "

Marina flinched, eyes full of tears. "I heard him say it. He thinks you went too far. It'll either be him coming, or Shelly, and soon, that's why I hurried back. I thought I should tell you before you go to find her, I didn't think she'd be _here_ …"

Aisha nodded, even if her heart threatened to punch a hole through her chest as she hurried to explain. "She doesn't know the city and I couldn't get her out. I just showed her the blind spot. It had to be a place she knew, and close… We need to get her out of here, Mari. We need to go, now."

"And go where?" Marina snapped, fighting tears. "Aisha, they're coming. Even if we can run, she can't. Please, think about this. Where would we go?"

"I don't know, okay?! I don't _know_ , but I'm not turning a blind eye to this! If boss wants to become a slave trader, that's up to him, but I'm not letting him drag me along! And you — just give me the word, Mari. Give me the world and I'll get you out of here for good, I'll get us all out of here, I can _do it—_ "

"And where would we _go_!?" Marina wailed. "We're prostitutes, Aisha, just a step above slaves, slaves in all but name. Wherever we go, we won't ever be anything more. What's more, we both know boss would never let you leave!"

"That's _not_ true, I can handle him—"

"Look at yourself, Aisha! You should've left months ago! You're still here, because of me, and a multitude of other reasons and he _knows_ it. You think he's above using the rest of us to keep you here?"

"That's dumb, why would he… I don't even earn him that much money. You, Kath and Shelly, you earn way more—"

Marina cupped her cheeks, wiping the tears Aisha didn't remember spilling. "You know business, sweetie. He treats you like shit, but unlike the rest of us, he never lifts a hand on you. He would've never gotten this far without you and he knows it. I remember what this place had been like before you showed up. Maybe he forced you into this job, but you made it work for him in ways he never thought possible, and that's why—"

A knock interrupted her, almost like a knife in Aisha's gut. She looked down at the barely conscious girl lying at her knees and back to Marina, wiping the tears and trying not to smear her face with the oil still sticky on her fingers.

"It's okay, it's Shelly, I'll talk to her," Marina assured her as she stood up. "He never knocks that way."

Quick nod, Aisha wiped her fingers clean, hand still reaching out for the dagger that had thankfully fallen out of the mess. It had been years since she'd last drawn it. She prayed she'd never have to again.

 _Never say never, eh?_

"I'm opening," Marina said.

Aisha nodded, keenly watching as she pulled at the heavy handle, rising from her knees, just in case she needed to act quickly.

The door slid inward.

Marina screamed.

And Aisha leapt.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Err. I ended up making updates every six days instead of sticking to a weekly schedule. Meh. This time I'm early because next 5 days are going to be a mess and I'm honestly not sure how I'm gonna get through it. But hey! Fun! Next update probably not before next Saturday tho. Thank you guys for all the impressions. Really. You have no idea how much it means!

* * *

When that knock sounded, part of Aisha truly wanted to know what sort of an evil spirit she'd crossed in her past life. Maybe Marina thought Shelly was the better option, but as far as she was concerned, she'd rather deal with the boss in one of his worse moods, any time of the day. Shelly when things didn't go her way? Brrrrr.

But Marina thought it was fine enough, and then she screamed, and Aisha didn't have the time to think, just free the blade and leap—

And freeze, as Marina gestured her to fall back without moving from the door, face several shades paler.

"Oh hell, Shelly, what were you thinking?" she screamed dramatically. "I know you love your scorpion pets, but did you have to, _really_? You almost gave me a heart attack! I am not letting you in with that thing, no way."

Muttering a thanks under her breath, Aisha sheathed the weapon back and kneeled next to Mel, leaning to whisper in her ear. "Mel? Hey, are you awake? Can you move?"

Green eyes only half-open, the girl seemed to still be dangerously out of it, but Aisha didn't have the time. Helping her sit, she gestured at her back. "Come on, we have to go. I'll carry you out, but I can't do it on my own. Hold on tight."

"Okay," the girl whispered drowsily, thin arms closing around her neck. Aisha almost stumbled under the weight.

 _Shit, now's not the time to be clumsy._ Judging by the argument, Shelly knew they were inside, and sanity be damned, Aisha only saw one way out of the situation. _Please don't hate me for this._

"It's fine, Mari." It got her best friend's keen attention, and doubtlessly Shelly's as well. "Shelly's looking for me, right? Well, I'm right here."

"Yes," the blonde's shrill voice came from the outside. "I need to speak with you."

Aisha stepped out, noting the utter lack of surprise on Shelly's face when she spotted the slave girl hanging on her shoulders. "Boss isn't going to like this—"

"Do I look like I care?"

Shelly stepped forward, the venomous pet in her hand swinging that sharp stinger dangerously close. Froze, when the sharp blade barely missed her neck, ruby in the hilt gleaming in the sunlight. Pet scorpion in her hand twitched and Aisha shifted, just enough to make sure the damn stinger was nowhere near.

"You wanted to talk or poison me?" she asked. "Talk away, while I'm still listening. I know that one wouldn't kill me, but I prefer staying away from paralytic poisons."

Gray eyes narrowed into slits, but Shelly was all too aware of the blade far too close to her skin for comfort. Tense, but she didn't lose her cool, not yet. Considering how much of a coward she used to be, the change was startling. "As if you're the one to talk. Threatening me? I thought you were better than that. Do you have _any_ idea what consequences this will have on your career?"

"Oh right, and prostitution is such a prospective job." Aisha twitched the blade and watched with sadistic pleasure as the girl flinched. "I'm not going to say it twice. Get out of my way, Shelly."

"You can't be serious. You'd throw everything away for a _slave_?"

"Oh, shut up. As if helping him spread hallucinogenics with those pets of yours wasn't bad enough, you support his colossally stupid decision to enter the slave industry. And you're _surprised_ I'm complaining?"

"This is _your fault_! If you hadn't showed up, he never would've thought of it—"

"Exactly. Which is why I'm going to fix it."

The weight eased on her back, and Aisha took one glance to confirm Marina took the hint and inched back, with Mel rushing to join her. For all the anger flaring in her eyes, if she could've, Aisha was certain Shelly would've killed them a dozen times over. Fists shaking, the burnt of her rage shifted towards Aisha, one among many signs that Marina had taken her chance and ran for it. Thank god.

"Fine," Shelly growled. "Go. Run for it. _Run_. But he'll come for you, and when he does, I won't say a single word in your defense."

"I can work with that." She drew the dagger back, eyes never quite leaving the venomous stinger out of sight. Shelly claimed even scorpions could be trained, but she really didn't want to find out how true that was. "Think carefully, Shells. If anyone here knows how the slave industry works, it's me. He's not gonna profit from it. He's just gonna lose what little sanity he has left."

Shelly tossed her a mocking laugh. "You lost all of yours if you think he's going to listen."

Aisha shrugged. "Your call. But if you ever decide to help me out, well. We always worked well as a team. See you around!"

* * *

When she found Marina and Mel, her lungs burned from the running, tired limbs ached and her heart beat so fast in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. _I've done it this time. I screwed up, there's no going back, nobody's gonna care to even listen—_

Except, none of that mattered, because if her plan worked, she was going to be a traitor, the lowest of the low, and girls would always see her as such—nothing would be the same and she should've known that from the moment she saw Mel walk through that door, because she would _not_ see another slave suffer, not in front of her eyes, not ever, and if she needed to become a traitor to do it, she would. Over and over.

But Mel and Marina were sitting at the park, in the shade of a tree, both still visibly shaken, but they were fine. They were smiling, they were tired, but not hurt, and Aisha could still help them. For now, that would have to be enough.

Marina animatedly flailed her arms, voice a little higher than the usual pitch. Mel listened to the story with the eagerness only a child could have, pale forehead shimmering with sweat, but the occasional chuckle ringing out was wrapped in a wave of expectancy and excitement that only a child could pull off.

"And then, guess what he did? Come on! Think. A big, scary ass dragon, and you have nothing other than an exploding geyser—"

Eyes gleaming, Mel shot up. "He fought the _dragon_! Oh—the geyser must've helped—"

" _Yes_. He took that lameass shield and _surfed_ the geyser, oh yes he did and — he punched a _dragon!_ Slammed that fist right into its snotty nose—"

"EEEH! He punched it?!" Green eyes glowed, lips spreading into an ear to ear grin. Then she spotted Aisha, leaning against the nearby tree and trying to catch her breath, and if possible, the grin grew even wider. "Aisha! You're okay!"

She wasn't prepared when the girl locked her arms tight around her waist, tear stained cheeks pressing against her bare skin. Both almost toppled over, some careful maneuvering the only thing saving them from rolling in the grass. Mel's shoulders shook. "You're okay."

"I'm fine." Eyes softening, Aisha brushed her fingers through the soft hair. "Feeling better already, I see?"

"A little. Marina said we have to run—"

"Yeah. Don't worry, it's going to be fine."

"No, it's _not_. We're on run because of me. You have to know—I have to tell you—"

Prying out of the hug, Aisha patted her cheek. "Mel, calm down. There'll be time to talk later, okay? First, we need someone to look at your back, and we need a place to stay for the time being—I have a place in mind…"

Uh-oh, the look Marina was giving her felt like a prickle against her temple. There was something terse to her stance and disapproving to her glare, like she couldn't possibly believe anything coming out of her mouth could be a solution. Aisha pouted.

"It's a good place," she defended.

"I'm sure," the fiery redhead snorted. "I also thought you'd have something like a plan, you know, not necessarily anything brilliant, but at least _something,_ before you pulled that blade on Shelly. Now I'm convinced you're winging it."

Aisha winced. "True, but _not_ true. Not completely. I have an idea—"

"Aisha, _look_ at how we're dressed. You and I, maybe, we'd stand a chance at night. During the day? Nobody would give us the time of the day. And Mel still has the marks from the chains. Not to mention, no inn would take us, we don't have the money—"

Tugging on the pouch hanging a her hip, Aisha shot her a look.

Marina rolled her eyes. "Fine, you have money. Enough to ensure us a stay in an inn and a change of clothes?"

"Now you're just being mean. I'll get us a change of clothes. Then you and Mel go to Sindria's headquarters."

"Sindria?" Marina echoed. "Are you kidding me? As in, _that_ Sindria? How exactly do you intend to—wait. Wait, wait, wait a second. Me and Mel? You mean to tell me you're not coming?!"

"I told you, I have a plan. To pull it off, I need information. I need to see the Tridents."

"You _WHAT?_ "

Oh she should've expected that screech.

"Of all the suspicious, shady, _underhanded—_ "

Ears ringing, she tried to bank on the patience, or what little of it she had left. Marina had more than enough reason to revoke her best friend status faster than she could blink, but hopefully she'd have enough sense in her to understand she had no choice. There was no going back anymore, not from this.

"—who better than a bunch of egomaniac outlaws—"

"Don't call them that."

Marina scowled, arms crossed at her chest in what was clear disapproval of… everything, really. "What am I supposed to call them? The gentle outlaws? Vigilantes? Freedom fighters? They're no such thing and you _know_ it." Inhaling, the redhead tried to regain some of her cool. "But fine. At least we're not jumping off the cliffs. Is there no middle ground for you, or must you always run from one extreme to another?"

"The cliffs were an accident!" But for the rest of it, well… Fair question. But who better to turn to if she was going to defy some of Reim's constitutional laws? Marina had no reason to glare at her that way, none whatsoever.

"Look, either I do it now, or somebody else tries later, but later might be too late. Like my father used to say, go big or go home, and right now I don't think we're in position to go home."

"No thanks to you."

Aisha flinched. "I'm _not_ going to apologize—"

"I know." Brushing the hair from her face, Marina glanced at the poor confused little girl in their company, and sighed. "I just wish I had any idea what you're so worried about. Yes, boss and slaves is a bad combo. He's a jerk on a good day, those poor slaves would become just another way to ease his stress. But the Tridents? They're not a solution. If anything, they're even more of a problem in an already messed up situation and — well, you heard the rumors. Somebody is going to put a warrant on their heads, and soon."

"Maybe," Aisha allowed, "but they're the best source of information I have. I dare you to find someone better."

"I just wish you were going to them for information alone."

Aisha shrugged. Whatever reaction Marina was hoping for, she wouldn't get it. She'd made her choice. There was no changing her mind anymore.

Marina gave up glaring. "Fine. Sinbad, right? You think he'll be willing to help? Are you sure? I know the rumors say he's helped everyone who ever came to him, but that's just rumors—"

"He won't turn a blind eye, at the very least. We don't need more than that."

Marina stared at her for a long moment, before nodding slowly. "All right. I'll take Mel to Sindria. We'll wait for you there."

"Thanks, Mari."

"Be careful."

A smile cracked on her face. "Ain't I always?"

"A-Aisha," Mel began, hesitantly, grip she had on Marina's hand tightening. "You… it's okay. You don't have to do this for me. I'll… whatever happens, they won't stop coming after me. They'll never stop coming after me. I did too much, I hurt them too much… even if it's not the boss, the rest of them…"

"Let them come." Grip on the dagger tightening, she squared her shoulders. "Any slave trader that comes anywhere near me is going to regret it."

"You don't get it, they _hate_ me—"

"I hate them, too. So much more than you think. Now let's go. We had a long day, and there's even more work ahead of us. The sooner we get moving, the sooner we get to rest."

Soft sigh later, Mel gritted her teeth, eyes sparkling with a range of different emotions she'd rarely seen in anyone's face, let alone a slave's. It looked much like defiance. "… okay."

* * *

The streets were crowded, the heat scorching and the cloak all too stuffy for a day that felt like they'd hit the desert in the middle of summer, with no oasis in sight. Marina tugged Mel along, pretending that all the eyes on them had to do with their stunning looks rather than suspicious outfits.

"I'll get us clothes, she says. I'll get us _clothes_. Suspicious, stuffy, ugly cloaks don't friggin count as clothes to me!" Every step she took feeling like further torture. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if she's sane. And then I remember, no, of course she isn't."

Mel smiled awkwardly, but she ought to be feeling even worse, considering her state, and of course Aisha, that reckless idiot would think of things other than being _pragmatic_. "You like her a lot, don't you?" she giggled. "I'm not surprised. She's really kind."

Marina sighed, picking the quickest route she knew, even if it only pushed them into the worse crowd. But at least the ginormous building of Sindria Trading was finally in sight. How a fifteen year old boy managed to build that all on his lonesome, she'd never know. Rumors said many things, each crazier than the other, and she wasn't about the dip further into the insanity. She had enough with Aisha's suicidal tendencies.

"Don't let her fool you. If you think for a moment that girl has her shit together, trust me, she doesn't. I've never met somebody with a _worse_ priority assortment."

Mel giggled louder, but her hold on Marina's hand tightened, too much. One glance confirmed she was only barely standing on her those twig-like legs. _No surprise, really, given how much we had to walk. Leave it to Aisha to send us all the way across the city._

"Can you do it? If you're tired, I'll give you a piggyback."

Shaking her head, Mel's fought for a breath, face under the hood drenched in sweat. "I'm just thirsty. It's that place, right? I'll make it that far."

"Fine. But don't hesitate to ask if you think you can't, alright?"

At Mel's nod, she pulled her forward, but paid mind to slow the pace. If she was this tired, then Mel ought to be having it much worse.

Much to her complete lack of her surprise, the plateau before the company was just as crowded as the streets had been. From the people in recognizable white-green uniforms talking cheerily among each other, to those same uniformed people providing information to everyone clearly not employed. Few came in and out of the building, in rush and whispering among each other in what looked to be a beginning of a great new rumor, before disappearing behind the nearest corners.

Marina wiped the sweat from her forehead. Beside her, she could hear Mel's ragged breathing.

"Just a minute longer. I just gotta find somebody to talk to… "

Ah, there. Cleancut fringe, wild red hair, she remembered him. Not many people were nice about the drinks they ordered. He'd been one of the nicest people she'd ever met. Which made him just about perfect for this.

Target set, Marina moved swiftly, silently, walk shifting into the well-practiced strut even if the damn cloak would hide most of it. Some habits she could never grow out of. Mel trotted after her, lacking much in confidence, but making up for it with sheer determination.

"Excuse me, sweetheart."

She almost punched herself in the face right then and there, this should be a certain help, she didn't _need_ to flirt… Except certain with Aisha was never certain and smiles tended to have some rather ingenious purposes when one was clever enough to use them. And spotting the tinge of pink to the youth's cheek, Marina knew she had his attention. Thankfully, not because of the cloak.

"Um, how may I help?"

"I would appreciate it very much if you showed me the way to your boss's office. We need to speak with him, urgently."

"Um, I'm sorry, but I don't think that's possible. There's an important meeting going on now… If you can wait till tomorrow, I can schedule it with Ja'far, I'm sure we'll find a free hour."

Marina clicked her teeth. "I understand, but this is urgent. We may not have the time to wait till tomorrow."

Conflicted. Why did he look conflicted? All he needed to do was agree—

"I'm sorry, just right now, Sin—er, boss, he's really not available…"

Mel tugged at her hand, but Marina didn't know what to focus on first. They didn't have the time to wait, she was already at the end of her wits, the cloak was all too stuffy, and nothing was working out—

Mel's hold on her hand slipped, and Marina only noticed the danger a moment too late.

"Mel!"

The girl hit the ground with a pained gasp, struggling for breath. Marina was beside her, immediately, but she didn't know where to turn first. She slipped the hood from her head, damp hair brushing her fingers, but she couldn't find the string, untie it, her fingers were shaking too much. A hand not her own pressed against the sweaty forehead, the Sindrian boy looking equally shaken as she felt.

"She's burning up so bad. What happened to her?"

" _Everything_ happened to her," Marina snapped. "Mel? Oh god, Mel, did I push you too hard? Mel!"

She didn't answer. Of course she didn't answer, she was struggling so much to just breathe.

Thankfully the boy from Sindria was calmer than her because he found the damn string within seconds, pulling the heavy cloak off her tiny shoulders. He froze, however, at the sight of the shiny, revealing outfit and the clear, dark lines left behind by the chains that had pressed into the thin wrists, ankle and neck. With most of the jewels the girls had given her now gone, the marks were plain for everyone to see.

Marina prepared a vehement defense — she was done with every last thing that had taken the opportunity to go fantastically wrong today, and she was not going to allow another finely dressed idiot to get in her way—

"Help me get her up," he said, eyes hard. "She needs water, some herbs for the fever… I'll make sure you talk to Sin later."

Marina nodded absentmindedly, because that just now—

Hanging over his shoulder and with her face out of his line of sight, Mel lifted her head, slightly. Marina felt the weight shift from her shoulders as the girl opened her eyes, grateful that at least the breathing seemed to be getting under control—

Catching Marina's eye, Mel stared at her for a moment, eerily calm, then stretched her lips into a lazy grin. And winked.

Marina almost stumbled over a stray brick. _Oh, you — sly little imp, you—_

The boy froze when he caught her staring, on the verge of breaking into hysterical laughter. He blinked. "Is everything alright?"

"Ah, yes. Um, thank you."

The smile on his face was that of a kind, well meaning but hopelessly naive child, yet it felt like balm for her wounded soul.

And the little grin on that devil child's face was all too smug for the stunt she'd pulled. Even now, her heart felt like she'd sprinted through a lion den. _Just you wait, Mel dear. You and I are going to have a_ word.

* * *

Being tossed right back into work after a sleepless night was more jarring than Sinbad remembered it being. Admittedly, after the last time, he'd promised he'd never do that again, but the party had been an idea he couldn't pass up. And whoever had suggested the red light district after… Genius. Pure, unadulterated genius.

But okay, he may had gotten held up a little too long, and he only had himself to blame. And Aisha. If he'd known the things she could do with that tongue a little earlier—

Er. Not the time.

Sitting across him, the tea she'd ordered still untouched, she flailed her hands around in order to explain whatever it was that bothered her so badly. Sinbad knew it was pretty damn rude of him not to listen, but Marina had already explained what caused most of the problem and as far as he was concerned, he'd hire them all in a heartbeat.

Marina was sharp, educated and knew how to work with people. Aisha perhaps even more so, even if she could neither read or write. She faced the problems head on and something like that was crucial, even if Rurumu kept reminding him that clinical approach wasn't all that bad, either. And he'd never leave a child on the street. Especially if ill. Besides, Mel was around Ja'far's age and Ja'far was one of the most capable people he knew. Soon as she got better, Sinbad was confident they'd find a place for her as well.

Except, more and more he was getting the feeling that Aisha had other things in mind… And he'd probably be paying more attention if the way her lips moved wasn't so damn distracting.

 _Maybe she's right, and this was a bad idea._

Didn't feel that way, not really. Nothing around her felt like a bad idea.

 _If she's not coming to the company, maybe she'd be in the mood for a little fun? Can't hurt to ask._

But maybe it could, given she looked like she'd bitten into something especially sour. And oh. She stopped talking. Whoops. What had she been going on about, again? Ah, right.

"Well, you're not wrong about Napolia being one of the few cities where slavery is… less rampant, I suppose," he allowed, "But I fail to see how allowing your boss to join the industry would put the city at risk as much as you say."

Wrong thing to say, giving the look of pure disbelief she was giving him.

"Weren't you listening? This isn't about my boss, Sin! I mean yes, it is, but — _argh_."

He blinked, as she grabbed his half finished tea and moved it to the other end of the table. Watched with interest as she did the same to her own, then pried out several coins from her pouch and dropped them in random places over the table.

"Okay. Think of it this way. The table is Reim. Your mug is Remano, mine is Napolia. The coins are other, smaller cities, like Borgel and a few other places. South, where you're sitting, Parthevia. Katarg. Heliohapt. That's where most of the slaves in the country come from. North, west, east — the sea. Now think. Napolia is right here. Far east. If you want better trade routes and lower expenses, you come here. So yes, about half the international trade that goes through Reim, goes through here. All except for one thing."

"Slaves," Sinbad supplied.

"Exactly. The biggest strongholds for slave trading are Remano, where the Froder Company is. And Ria Venus island—" she tapped the very corner of the table. "Where Mariadel Company is. Those two are the biggest names in the industry. They have their hands in jars here, here, here and here." Thin finger drew lines from one coin to another, until it came to a stop where her mug rested. "But they're not here. Not a single branch in Napolia. Even if it would provide them such glorious opportunities. Why?"

Ah. She got him there. He actually wanted to find out. Because the obvious clearly was wrong, in this instance. "I take it it's not because lack of demand?"

Something flashed in her eyes, hard like steel. "No."

"It was too much to hope that'd be it, I guess. Which begs the question, why didn't they come before? Why wait till now? Both of those companies have more than enough assets to open a branch here."

Aisha smirked, though some of the smugness quickly drained from her face. "You've been in Napolia for well over a year now, Sin. You _had_ to have heard about them." She added two more coins, one beside his mug, the other beside her own. Kept her finger on that one. Polished that nail a little too much, too, given it was practically reflecting the torch flames.

"The Tridents," she said. "Same way Froder and Mariadel have their own headquarters, so do the Tridents."

"Sea Pirates?" Sibad eyebrows shot up. "We've had a few clashes with them. Apparently raiding Imuchakk ships is one of their favorite pastime activities."

A strange looked crossed her face. Like she desperately wanted to counter what he said, but held back, instead tapping the coin again. "Pirates, yes. But they're more than that. Right now, they're strong enough to be considered a viable political opposition, but I'm not sure how long that can stick. If the Alexius family puts a warrant on their heads… er. Anyway, go back far enough, you'll find that many of the founders used to be slaves and war prisoners. They raided, destroyed and interfered with any business Froder and Mariadel tried to do here."

Sinbad nodded thoughtfully. "So now those two big companies united in order to grow through a tavern that can barely put their ends together?" Well, it wasn't that far out there, to think the competitors might join hands in that case, especially if the pirates got strong enough to be considered a legitimate threat. But why use something that was closer to a financial black hole was beyond him. Except the look she was giving him, there had to be more to that particular story.

"I wish it were that easy," she sighed, with a frown that pretty much confirmed all his doubts.

For the first time, she took a sip of her tea, face ashen. "I spent most of the day trying to confirm this, but, well. Red Velvet is just the first stage," she said. "An experiment, so to speak. It's not the first time the offer's been made. It's the first time somebody was dumb enough to accept it. People here — they have a way of sniffing out trouble. Froder and Mariadel are nothing but."

Given that the Merchant Administration Guild followed their own inner workings far more than actual laws, Sinbad couldn't disagree. Between their way of dealing with street vendors to their rival-like relationship with the pirates, he'd learned the hard way they weren't the most reliable problem solvers when they should've been.

"So you think they found an actual means of punching through whatever barrier the Tridents made?" It would only make sense. No barrier was truly unbreakable, especially not when it came down to major profit. And given how big of a trading center Napolia was, it was only a matter of time before somebody tried. But salve industry was bad news for everyone. Especially those south of here. Which meant Parthevia, Katarg, Heliohapt, Toran villages… _Parthevia_ …

Aisha looked him dead in the eye, her own flickering with a fire that had nothing to do with the flaming torches.

"They found you."

"The — _what?_ "

There had to be a mistake there somewhere. He had no intention to meddle with slave trading, legal business or otherwise. But Aisha looked too serious for that to be a practical joke and that chilled him to the bone.

"Explain."

Her eyes drifted away from him, off into the distance. "I have no evidence, just rumors," she said. "But it'd make sense. Too much, if you ask me. People love you. Sindria's become an inspiration for many commoners and businessmen alike. If I wanted to sneak into a well-guarded market right under a prickly watchdog's nose, that's how I'd do it."

"So, public opinion? You think it would change so easily—"

"It's not that simple. People here aren't opposed to slavery, Sin. But between slavery and the Tridents, they like the pirates a little more. If the pirates go around, destroying property of somebody who just decided to set their foot in here, city guards won't take it lying down. But ask any local in the street and they saw nothing, no sir. No random pirate that way. Are you sure those kind gentlemen didn't set their own curtains on fire?"

Sinbad winced. If people in Napolia were more than willing to stand up for them — and if the Tridents thought those two companies were a problem, no wonder the rest of the city would as well. "That's… actually, that's pretty clever."

"Right? Napolia loves young, ambitious people. But compared to a bunch of crazy pirates, they just might like a crazy, young dungeon conqueror even more. After all, he duped both Reim and Parthevia and stole the dungeon. And now he's come all the way here? What's there not to love?"

Sinbad tried to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. His performances in the Colosseum probably had plenty to do with why his company got off to such a great start, too. But even so.

"I see your point. If the role models start doing something, what's there to stop everyone else? But there is one major hole in that theory — and it's something you should know very well. Sindria has no intention of tapping into the slave industry. I would _never_ let it happen—"

"It doesn't matter, Sin." The smile on her face was all too somber for his liking. "And that's the thing. If what I heard is right, you already signed the contracts. If that's true, trading regular goods or slaves makes no difference. The Tridents don't know if the rumors are true, yet they're raiding your ships. Imagine what happens if something confirms it. They won't hesitate — and you're going to fight them, because you'd never let a bunch of pirates destroy anything under your watch. More than that — you're going to win. Djinn on your side or not, you'd win it. And once you do…"

Teeth clicking, Sinbad's fists clenched. "I open a path for the slave traders. Whether I like it or not."

Aisha leaned back in her seat, not quite daring to look him up in the eye.

"But you said it yourself. _IF_ the rumors are true."

Aisha didn't quite blink at him. "Well are they?"

"That — I cannot say." And it felt like a punch in the gut, that he had to admit it. Or like somebody had taken pliers and forced the words out of him. The best option of all would be that everything Aisha brought up was true, but the rumors were just that — rumors. Overeager gossip going wild for reasons unknown. But he couldn't look her in the eyes and honestly tell her it wasn't true.

He hadn't gotten a chance to go through everything. Ever since the return from Artemyra, things had been chaotic at best. From parties, through plans and strategies, to ideas how to reduce expenses and keep the business going. Vittel had mentioned something about reports and contracts he needed to look at — but then Drakon and Serendine had shown up this morning, and settling that had taken most of his already exhausting day. Mystras caught him almost immediately after, and by the time he made sure everything with the girls was under control, Aisha was waiting.

 _Later, huh. Looks like I better change that to right now —_

"I know for a fact we have one invoice with Mariadel's name on it," he said, a memory flashing in his mind. "Anything else, I'll have to look at. Carefully."

Aisha swallowed thickly. And nodded. "I'll — I'll try to keep the Tridents off your back until then. You can't let them in, Sin. Letting them take Napolia too…" she shook her head, teeth tearing into the skin of her lip. "I know people. I know business — well enough to keep Red Velvet from falling into this web, at least. All I wanted from you was to take care of Mel until I could do it, but this… this changed everything. I can't let others go through the same things I did. I _can't_."

Sinbad nodded, body far more stiff than he'd liked it being. "I won't let them use my company to do it," he managed. "That, I promise you."

"It's not… it's not going to be easy," she choked out. "I can think of half a dozen ways to use your company. Hell, I do it on a weekly basis — oh don't look at me like that, you should've known I was going to do it the moment you introduced me as a fucking friend. The only edge you have is the fact they _underestimate_ you, they underestimate the fact you can just shoot lightning bolts and destroy everything they built—"

"Hey!"

"I _know_. You'd never do it. I would, and I wouldn't even hesitate. But you wouldn't, not ever. And that's okay. But it puts a limit on what you _can_ do. Worst case scenario, you end up owing them money… Sin, if that happens, you'll never be rid of them."

"I know." Teeth gritted, he forced himself to just breathe. And think. Until he could come up with a workable solution, or at least more concise information. "So… what exactly are you planing to do?"

At that, her lip curved into a thin, dangerous smile. "Do you see where the coins are?"

Everywhere. All around the table, even besides the mugs—

"That's where the Tridents have friends," Aisha said. Though the friends she was speaking of, Sinbad would rather address as spies. Enablers. Maybe even puppets. "See the silver coin?"

"Remano," Sinbad noted. "That's where she is right now. Their leader," he guessed. It wouldn't make any sense otherwise, why she would've chosen to put that particular coin there. Not with the Empress of the Seas' face engraved in it, one of Reim's best known historical figures in this area. Not with the infamous nickname that the leader of the Tridents had gladly taken.

"Exactly." Aisha nodded. "And while the Lady of the Turbulent Seas wages war on the west side, I'm going to wage a war in the east. After all, when you're busy battling a bunch of crazy pirates with many, _many_ dangerous friends, who's going to care about one measly little prostitute?"

Sinbad swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Tricky. But it could work. Depending on how exactly you intend to pull the rug from under them."

Aisha shrugged, looking somewhere past him, a tiny little smile on her face. Strangely sad, even if it didn't look that way, not quite. "It's gonna be pretty underhanded. And several people in Red Velvet will want my head on a pike. But that never stopped me before, now did it?"

Sinbad frowned. "Wait. You—"

"I'm going to have my boss arrested. After all, you can't very well sign the damning trade contracts from behind the bars. Right?"


	4. Chapter 4

Whoops. Sorry, couldn't get to this earlier. Whooping 6k words though! (would've been more, I shuffled some scenes). Originally, this was written to be 6 chapters... but I moved some pieces around, erased others and changed some, so currently we're at a total of 8 chapters. Might change, considering one of those chapters is well over 10k long. Check more notes at the end!

And thank you, a big, huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are awesome!

* * *

Nadir was used to doing business with highly refined and seemingly respectable businessmen. Few others could afford his services to begin with, fewer would dare enter his den without a strong, armed-to-their-teeth following. That alone proved they had guts under that unfashionable exterior. But if these people did anything marginally respectable for a living, he was willing to fry his fur hat and eat it.

To be fair, in a job like his, things were sort of like that — either you made a deal with one filthy rich asshole or another. And whoever looked like a dignified businessman, usually wasn't.

Though it was thanks to phony blue bloods like this pair that Nadir could afford a house three times as big as the one he'd been raised in, rich and beautiful wifes and a life filled with continuous traveling. He lived the life of an adventurer many others would slaughter for, and he only had these people to blame for it.

Or thank them. Two sides, same coin. And money was _shiny_.

Nadir liked shiny. And furry. And if it had a temper, that was it. Everyone, pack your bags, Nadir saw it. Nadir liked it. He's gonna keep it. Forever.

Even if it meant he had to pull a couple nasty tricks. All in a day's work.

So. Negative opinions on their snot nosed race aside, he went out of his way to treat his wealthy customers with care. Respect. Careful consideration, too, but he was nothing short of cordial. People liked nice. People liked pleasant. Even when it screwed them in the face.

But now. Huh. The request his fellow gentlemen had was worth a minute stare, and that was without bringing up the money involved. Fingers drumming against the wooden surface, he was a little glad they were in a public place. These guys looked willing to threaten him, if he so much stepped out of line.

 _Which means this isn't a request. This is coercion. And I don't have the right to refuse — or so they think._

He was, after all, stronger than both of them together. And who'd care about a missing noble or two?

Lips dry, Nadir managed a light chuckle. "Let me get this straight. You want one of my pets — er, _monsters_ — to sniff out a slave. Based on a piece of old clothing. Who could be _anywhere_ in Napolia right now. Did I get it all down, or do you have any other impossible demands?"

The two _highly_ _respectable_ Remano businessmen shared a look. The older, clearly a member of high nobility, stroked his chest long beard. "Bring for questioning, first. Then kill."

Nadir nodded. "Right. So — sniff out, interrogate, kill. Yeah, my pets are kind of well known for that last bit. Except, you know. I don't rent my babies. I either sell them or I don't. Want blood flowing? Cool, my friend, but I ain't got what you're looking for. Am just a fellow old animal trader and nothing more. Ya know. Fluffy, cuddly kittens. Things like that."

Didn't look as if they'd buy it, darn it. Something he should've guessed right away, given they'd come to him specifically, in this specific inn he loved. How they knew he'd returned to Napolia to begin with was beyond him. Not like he went home to kiss his wives hello.

Maybe they just got lucky.

 _Yeah, right. And I have a pair of extra wings growing out of my skull._

 _Who even uses monsters to go after slaves? Isn't that a waste of money?_

"One thousand silver coins before, double after," the bearded upper-cruster said. "Or I can ask again, and we can cut the sum in half."

Three _fucking_ thousand? For this alone? Oh, holy shit, these guys clearly didn't care about wasting money. Grinning from ear to ear, Nadir's stomach flipped. "Well, I take it this is something you'd like done unofficially, mister…?"

The pair of sharp old eyes narrowed into slits. "Easy there, my boy. If I wish this done silently, there's a reason for it. I shall not reveal my name to somebody who needs not know it."

Careless shrug, Nadir let his lips stretch into a lazy grin. "Just makin' small talk, sir. Gonna know your name by tomorrow anyway. Haven't you heard, Napolia's rumor mills are _incredibly_ fast. And crazy accurate. Who woulda thunk?"

Oh, _that_ look. He liked that look. Like his fellow conversationalist wanted to draw that neat sword at his hip, slice him into thin, bloody pieces and set them on fire. Tenacious, that. Gutsy. Nadir liked gutsy, in animals as well as humans.

"Fine," he said. "Searching, interrogating, killing. We can make a deal out of that. What you want is a well-trained, disciplined, _dangerous_ kitten. But not uncontrollable, no. That'd be bad. I have one fluffy kitten like that. Four months old, but he's an obedient little sweetheart. Tiny, but he's got the best nose of them all."

The pair exchanged a look, before pinning him down with a dubious stare. "Can it get the job done?"

Nadir almost laughed. Reim's high nobility, underestimating his pet. He really ought to have gotten used to this by now. "Indeed. But I ain't letting ya keep him. No matter how much you may want to."

"Fair," the aged noble allowed, in spite of his sour friend's in-your-face distrust. Nadir resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. _That_ would be bad for business. "Good." Falunty bow later, he grnned. "This way, gentlemen. I got a Maurenian sabretooth tiger for you to meet. Easy, though. Teeth may look pretty, but the poison in there is _real_ nasty."

The gentlemen shared another look. "We'd prefer it to be _fast_. And deadly."

The grin on Nadir's face was positively elated. "Then you've come to the right place. Those cute teeth have enough potent venom in them to kill an elephant in under a minute. Depending on how fast it gets to the heart, duh. This kitten's too young for that, but one bite's enough to kill a grown man in a few minutes. I trust that'll be enough?"

The spark in those eyes was more than answer enough.

This was going to be _interesting_.

* * *

 _A day ago_

"There," Aisha said. Three scrolls, and a pouch filled with three different hallucinogenic substances changed hands, the officer glaring at her as if she were the one guilty of crime. Then again, in some hand, she probably was. When you lived outside the law almost your entire life, you kind of learned to ignore it. "Be careful. White is the most harmless one. Though I heard some people who took it swore they saw dragons. The red ones — they can kill. The bigger the dose, more dangerous they get. A certain noblewoman took more than she should've. I don't think I need to specify what happened."

Rays of setting sun reflected of the iron headplate hiding most of the messy black hair. A pair of aged eyes narrowed, but the man nodded. Watched her dubiously for a long moment, as if trying to figure out exactly what expression she wore under that dark hood.

"Klaus said you took part in it," he said breezily.

Muscles stiff, Aisha refused to let her voice waver. "Production? No. Selling? No. I just didn't come to speak it of it sooner. Before you ask, I'm not going to give you the names of those who did. They never had a choice."

"You didn't sell, though. They did."

"And I almost got killed for it. Everybody else would've died for sure." The dry look told her exactly what he thought of _that_ argument. Aisha's fists clenched. "You're an officer. And yet you're one of the Tridents. What right do you have to say anything?"

She didn't miss the spark flaring in those eyes. "Noble. And stupid. Incredibly stupid."

Aisha shrugged. "Do you have any other questions, or can I go? I'm only here to make sure punishment gets to those who truly deserve it."

"Klaus vouched for you. He said you're Nadia's friend."

Half smile stretching on her lips, Aisha shook her head. "Fancy title, friend. I helped her a few times, she helped me back. No more, no less.."

"He said you saved her life. Everyone in league with the Tridents know what that means."

Tension rocked her body, cold sweat rolling down her back. Aisha breathed in, and out. In and out. The way he was looking at her, saving Nadia's life wasn't everything Klaus mentioned. That wasn't fair. Once she got out of here, she was going to grab that old jackass by his stupid long eyebrows and yell in his ears until he's truly gone deaf.

But until then, she had to remain calm. So what if everyone knew what saving Nadia's life meant? So _what_? This wasn't the capital. Maybe the organization bore the same name, but they weren't the same people. As long as that remained, everything was going to be fine.

 _But I'm going to throttle Klaus._

Aisha cleared her throat. "If you know that, then you know exactly what my opinion on the Mariadel issue is," she said. Cursed her voice for failing her so badly. "I already told Klaus, and I'll tell you as well. If you keep raiding Sindria's ships, you'll just draw them here faster. For the slavers to come here, they need Sindria down and under. And the Tridents are making it happen. You can either stop them. Or watch everything go to hell."

"I'm supposed to trust the words of a girl who just betrayed her employer?" Teeth gritted, the old wrinkly face scowled her way, inching forward as if to scare her into submission. Aisha stared levelly back. Relaxed, unflinching. But under the cloak, her fingers wrapped tight around the hilt of her concealed dagger.

She wasn't afraid. Ever since that first swing of a knife that had bought her freedom she never could've had, she wasn't afraid.

It didn't matter how much taller they were.

It didn't matter how much physically stronger they were.

If she could stab them, she could make them bleed. If she could make them bleed, she could kill them. And if they never expected it, she could laugh in their face.

"My loyalty lies with the Lady of Turbulent Seas," the elderly guard grunted. "Whichever direction she points, that is where we row."

"And I know for a fact she never told you to go after Sindria Trading. So keep your oars to yourselves. Before the dragon in Sinbad's hands breaks them."

She didn't wait for permission before she strode straight out of the building. Let them make of it what they will. Tridents were tenacious, but they were smart. Most of them. Nadia may no longer be there, but her influence remained.

 _Let's just hope it's going to be enough._

* * *

 _Present_

Birds chirped, soft rays of morning sunlight warmed Sinbad's face. Bleary eyes tried to make sense of the text written on the parchment, to no avail. He had to blink several times just for his sight to clear enough to separate one word from another. Several more before he realized that no, this wasn't the contract he was looking for, either.

Across the desk, a soft thud, as Aisha's forehead hit the hard surface stacked in a number of papers, some of the soft pink locks glued to her cheek. Few sheets gently lifted off the pile and landed somewhere on the floor.

In the other corner, Hinahoho had long since dozed off. Chair balancing on hind legs, his head fell against the window while soft snores left his lungs, several scrolls waiting to fall out of his lap. Few sheets dangled between his limp fingers in the warm breeze. Contrast to the pile of unsorted paper mess everywhere around Aisha and several messy stacks around Sinbad, he'd at least immaculately sorted out the documents according to the dates before passing out.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sinbad knew _somebody_ — namely, Ja'far — would force them to clean this up later, sort the documents back according to the date, supplier and a number of other factors he didn't care to know. Until then, he was free to keep the search going until he found what he was looking for.

He just wished he'd thought to ask the others for help before they'd made the colossally stupid decision to tackle all the documents in the company.

Hinahoho had suggested asking Vittel in the morning. Most the documents, contracts and invoices went through his hands, he'd know best where to find them. Except Vittel already had his hands full and Sinbad really didn't want to add to that, not when all he wanted was to read a few contracts.

The other person who'd know for sure was Rurumu, but she was on a leave and trying to track down others who might've had a hand in it would mean dragging Ja'far away from the number of other important duties — and really, Sinbad needed this fast. He needed to see it for himself.

So. Aisha, as the one who brought the problem up, was the obvious choice. Though the fact she couldn't read the documents herself made the process far more difficult than it had any right being. And Hinahoho, because he'd just finished helping Drakon, Serendine and her attendants settle in, he had a few minutes to spare.

Except minutes turned into hours, late night hours turned into morning rays of sun, and they were nowhere closer to finding the damning contract.

Which was ridiculous. They'd found a number of invoices from the Mariadel Company and that meant a contract had to exist _somewhere_. Which, all in all, was bad, but Sinbad decided to worry about how bad later. After he knew exactly _what_ he'd gotten his company into. Aisha had lost more and more color to her already ashen face the every next invoice they'd found, and even Hinahoho backed up her claim that there was something suspicious about the crazy changes in prices.

Not to mention that Aisha had been _right_ , and the pirates had been going for Mariadel's shipments alone, which made the loss even bigger. Not only did they lose a crazy amount of money thanks to the goods not selling, they lost the goods as well.

Except without one document to round it all up, he'd never know just how bad of a loss it was.

Dropping the useless paper onto another pile, Sinbad took a cue from Aisha and face-planted on the desk. "Hinahoho… Hinahoho… it's morning already… think we can get a break…?"

The snore was his only answer.

"Aisha… Aisha… wanna get me some water?"

From where she napped with invoices as her pillow, silence.

Sinbad yawned. If they could do it, so could he. A few minutes of sleep would do him good. Sleep was precious. He just never really thought about it that way until now. Pulling one all-nighter? Yea, he could do that.

Two? Er.

 _Never again._

Pushing the papers just a little to the left so his neck would be a little more comfortable, he shut his eyes, and ignored the sun on his cheek. Rest first. Food and shower later. And the documents? That could wait a little longer.

* * *

Aisha was only vaguely aware of the ache in her neck, something stuck to her face and the awkward way her arm stretched across the desk, when soft, comfortable warmth settled in her lap. Trying to sort out what were nightmares, what memories and what reality was proving to be difficult enough. From a cruel smile threatening her with chains and whips to shrill laughter and unreadable documents falling all around her, the chill that had closed around her heart clenched tight and refused to let go.

The first reminder that all of it was nothing but a dream were gentle fingers interlocking with her own across the desk. As comforting as they were, they were also a solid reminder that her shoulder was going to hurt like hell when she had enough presence of mind to get up.

The second reminder was a fluffy, heavy warmth nuzzling in her lap, and something else equally warm leaving the fingers of her free hand covered in something warm and liquid. The soft vibrations at her thighs were strange, unusual, but not entirely unwelcome. Still, a little icky.

 _Wait. What?_

Groaning, she pried her hands free, ignoring her cracking shoulder as she fought a losing battle with her heavy lids. She had to blink several times to identify that whatever moisture on her hand was, at least it wasn't blood. Then she glanced down to see what exactly was it that had decided to use her lap as an impromptu pillow.

Short, white fur, streaked with black. Fluffy ears. Yellow, beastly eyes, blinking up at her like an innocent child. And a pair of teeth long as her fingers, a hair's breadth from sinking deep into her thighs.

Aisha blinked blinked back. And screamed.

Chair tilted back, in her scramble to _get away_ , backrest slamming against the ground and her body along with it, but other than a rattle that shook her to her very bones, Aisha noticed none of it. _Get away, get away, get AWAY._

Too little, too late. Her foot caught on the edge of the cloak, elbow slammed into something hard enough to bruise and her back met the wall too soon for comfort. Sharp yellow eyes watched her every move, with honest curiosity, as if whatever she did would make no difference whatsoever.

 _Stupid_. The dagger was there, it ought to be there, the inner chest pocket, but her trembling hands were too slow to get it, cold shivers running down her back too obvious, there was no way she could move before the monster crossed that bit of distance—

And she cringed, as the tiger was upon her again, in a single stride, wet black muzzle close sniffing at her chest, then stomach, then beyond the cloak. Idly, Aisha thought she finally figured out what was it that woke her up.

A little less idly, she wanted to scream, but with a _huge_ tiger sniffing at her, and yet her body wouldn't _move—_

"Aisha, what the — _holy shit_!"

A crash, loud enough to stop Aisha's heart, but not enough to make the monster even twitch. From beyond the white fur streaked in black lines, she caught a glimpse of Hinahoho, trying to stand up from where he'd fallen along with _his_ chair. On the other side, Sinbad, blinking as though he couldn't decide whether it was all part of some weird dream. Hand twitched towards the sword, but he never pulled it out.

"Aisha… are you…"

"… I'm okay, I think," she managed. Wet tongue met the bare skin of her waist, and she squeaked. "Help?"

The tiger size of a bear tiger pulled back just enough to stare her down like a caught prey, hot breath hitting her neck. Sharp, dangerous teeth that, on second thought, were _way_ longer than her fingers, hung inches from her face while the monster inspected her with almost clinical precision. And licked her face.

Aisha was pretty sure she'd had several heart attacks by now. But ew. _Gross_.

Why the hell wasn't Sinbad doing anything? She needed _help_ , and her body wouldn't listen—

Slowly, the oversized sabretooth tiger retreated, the look in his eyes that of a petulant child and Aisha was sure that if it could've, it would've accused her of cheating. What sort of cheating, she had no idea, but just looking at her that way made her feel as though she'd done something wrong, which no way she had, hell, she only barely had the presence of mind to just _breathe_ —

"Er… I don't think he wants to hurt you…" Sinbad began.

"You _think_?!" Aisha squeaked.

The beast turned to him, with a growl deep from the bottom of his stomach while the long striped tail swung back and forth. Aisha swallowed thickly, breathing a little more even now that there were no teeth preparing to bite her limb off in a flash.

"Say, uh, Sin… I know you like danger and all, but uh… is that just me, or is that a Maurenian sabretooth tiger?"

"He's not mine! And I'm honestly not sure, but he doesn't look… Hinahoho, you wouldn't have some raw meat on you, would you? We have to lure him out of here—"

Straightening to her feet, back leaned firm against the wall for balance, Aisha froze when the beast turned its yellow eyes back on her. Slowly inched her hand forward, more than a little freaked out now that she could see that, on all fours, the beast reached up to her chest. _This is a bad idea._

Beastly eyes locked on her hand, but it made no move to bite it off even as she slowly inched it toward its head.

Okay, so maybe… maybe she could do this. If it had wanted her as food, she would've long since been swallowed up, chewed and digested. Besides, it seemed like a clever monster. Maybe she was human and humans were yummy, but she was skin and bone, and who liked bones anyway? Speaking of delicious, Sinbad and Hinahoho would've and should've been the first choice. And since they weren't… maybe it wasn't hungry? So yes, maybe he wouldn't chomp her fingers.

She hoped.

Eyes firmly shut, fingers met soft fur, and Aisha almost lost it right then and there. Arm still in one piece, fingers intact, and if she wasn't mistaken, he'd just sat down. Maybe this was just one realistic nightmare?

The longer her fingers stroked through the snow-white softness, the less she believed it. No way her subconscious could come up with this gentle a fur. Daring herself to open her eyes, she glanced between Sinbad and his friend, throat suddenly dry. "So um… do you have any raw meat? Or… he doesn't look hungry, right? Wait. Is it a he?"

Hinahoho shook his head, holding the chair high above his head as if just looking for an excuse to hit something with it. "Mystras is the one with emergency food supplies. Excuse me, but why are you petting it?"

Good question. He seemed to like it, though, and as long as he liked it, Aisha was pretty sure he wouldn't try to eat her. Right now, that was all that mattered.

But why the hell did Sinbad look so amused?

"Can you get him away from me?" she managed. "Just get him away from me? Do that Djinn trick and bump him on the nose or something. Just get him _away_."

Lips pressed together as if he was trying not to laugh, Sinbad dropped the battle-ready stance. Do I have to? He looks like he's having the time of his life. Not that I can blame him, the things you do with those fingers… Er." Under the intensity of her glare, Sinbad cleared his throat. "Not the time, right."

But damn it, if she wasn't mistaken that sound it was making reminded her an awful lot of purring. So, worst of all, Sinbad wasn't entirely _wrong_.

"Wait, you're—" Hinahoho choked, eyes darting from one to another, from faint red on Sinbad's cheeks to the skimpy dancer's outfit now clearly visible under her cloak. She could practically see the cogs turning as he connected the pieces into a picture he really should've been long aware of by this point.

Damn Sinbad. This was all his fault. Somehow.

Aisha cleared her throat. "Anyway, I take it he didn't get in through the door, right? So he must've gotten in through the window. And that means…"

Synchronized, as though they'd had months of practice, they turned towards the desk, and a number of documents scattered everywhere around. Several with clear damage from the sharp claws. Sinbad picked off one particular document from the pile, cringing at the tear running through its middle.

"Please tell me it's the one we've been looking for?" she tried.

"No."

"Damn it. And here I was hoping we could use it as an excuse. No sir, you see, a contract has no legal value after it's been eaten by a rabid _tiger_."

Huh. The way the creature in question looked at her, one would've thought he understood her insult and, moreover, was rather unimpressed with it. Aisha scratched behind the ears a little harder. Lip curved when the creepy, beady eyes closed and he started purring again. Maybe she could do this after all.

Sinbad snorted. "We really should find it. And fast."

Aisha nodded. Paled a little, when the realization set in that they might have to go through everything all over _again_. The only papers that hadn't been scattered all over the room were the ones Sinbad and Aisha had inadvertently fallen asleep on. Hinahoho's neat pile? Not a trace of it left.

Given the various pained expressions on their faces, the same thought had crossed their minds as well.

Aisha spun away, eyes narrowing at the giant cuddly ball of fluff at her feet. "Well, this is all your fault. How are you planning to make up for it, huh?"

Head tilted, the beast blinked.

"Don't give me that look," Aisha hissed. "We stayed up all night to read those and now you make an even bigger mess. Think you can get away with it? Not happening."

The tiger whined.

Okay. So maybe he did understand. _Wow_. If not for the giant teeth full at display, Aisha would've pegged him as a giant baby. Except if he really was what she thought he was, this baby had teeth that could potentially kill them all in under a minute. Which begged the question, what was that deadly, venomous, wild beast doing in the middle of a trading company?

 _Somehow, I don't think I want to find out._

From where he perched on the window, Hinahoho waved a hand. "Hey, Sin. Is that just me, or is there a commotion downstairs?"

Looking up from where he'd tried to poke the tiger in the side, Sinbad blinked. Shared a look with a Aisha, then shrugged.

Careful not to step onto a paw, she followed him, squeezing between them to look down where most of the noise was coming from; a group of Sindrian employees, gathered around the entrance—

Aisha huffed, when the tiger squeezed its head between where her and Hinahoho with just as much interest. Almost giggled when the giant feline started purring again while the Imuchakk giant idly scratched him behind the ears.

"Doesn't look too serious," Aisha noted. Beside her, Sinbad frowned.

"No, it is. Stay here. Hinahoho—"

A loud whistle rang through the area.

Aisha looked down just in time to see the tiger plant his paws on the window. And _jump_.

He zoomed into the air, light and gracious, and she almost suffered a heart attack, when he touched down with a crazy amount of elegance and grace, as if he hadn't just jumped down all the way from the first floor. Breathed in relief, when he dashed along the street entirely unscathed.

Beside her, Sinbad tensed.

"Well, that certainly wasn't a coincidence." Hinahoho scowled. "Do you see who made the call?"

"No." Gold eyes focused on Aisha, with a strange intensity, almost like he'd been expecting her to pay attention. Almost accusing.

Oh no, _don't you dare—_

"I don't suppose Tridents work with venomous wild animals, do they?" Sinbad pressed.

She blinked. "What? _No_." Too defensive, damn it. "At least, not that I know of. They're not the ones behind this, that I'm sure."

"Just in case, stay here. I'll send Ja'far to help you with the papers as soon as I see what's going on down there."

"Right…" Nodding, she glanced back towards the crowd, and as much as she hated to admit it, there was no doubt the tiger and the gathering crowd were anything but a coincidence. Worse, whatever that Maurenian tiger was about, it had come after _her_. Not Sinbad, not Hinahoho, but her specifically. Who in their right mind would try to follow her?

 _Can't be Tridents. It just can't be. So what if Nadia's not here? Old man Klaus and Elma_ know _me. If I'm standing up for Sindria, they know I have a good reason._

But did that mean anything, when neither one of them was in charge?

Tridents were a rowdy bunch. Authority needed to be deserved, and it had nothing to do with seniority. And just as well, trust needed to be earned, instead of given. Klaus and Elma might've been trusted members, there from the beginning, but that didn't mean they could order others. Elma was too shy for that, too anxious, and Klaus now had his family to take care of…

 _I trust them. I have to. If I can't trust them, how can I trust anyone?_

Something caught her eye, then. A shadow, in the corner across the street. Difficult to notice, unless if you knew specifically what you were looking for. Aisha squinted, but it was gone, almost like in a blink. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but maybe… she was _something_ , she was sure of it. A beard, suit, quality work… similar to something she'd seen worn before back in the capital.

… _Remano…? Mariadel is from Ria Venus, but Froder is from_ Remano—

Aisha froze, a single memory bubbling up to the surface. The bits of white powder, as she slipped some of it into the beers when she thought Marina wasn't looking. If wrinkly old men dared to leer at a kid, then they had it coming—

Mel had been avoiding that table like the plague. Later, she'd panicked, as if she already had reason to believe they'd been following her, said she'd given them a _reason_ …

Slave traders were vengeful bastards, but they had no resources to spare. One slave broke away and ran? Cool, let's make sure the others don't do the same. _But Froder is bigger, Froder is stronger…_ That alone made them far nastier than any average slaver could hope to be.

 _It doesn't make sense. I know the guys from Mariadel, they supplied us with the wine for as long as I've been in Red Velvet. This isn't big enough to send somebody more important in the food chain._

 _But if Froder and Mariadel are partners, not rivals…_

Oh.

 _Oh, no._

"Sinbad! This is bad! Sin! Wait for me!"

* * *

"Well, well, well," Nadir tutted, pure hatred coursing through his veins as he glanced down at the two hideous, most disgusting _scum_ that had ever walked the earth.

Pacing behind him, like he could feel his master's wrath waiting to be brought upon these sorry slimes, his kitten growled, sharp teeth at full display. The pair of nobles exchanged glances, nervous, and a little afraid.

They _should_ be afraid. Nobody, not a bloody soul, went after what belonged to _Nadir_ , money be damned, and _got away with it_.

"Well," he said. "What excuses do you have? Normally I'm far less forgiving than this. I mean, you're out-of-towners, _how_ would you know? But I should cut you up just for the audacity. Come on, spill it up. While I still have the patience to listen."

"What is your _problem_?" the aged fool snapped. "We paid you to get us that filthy slave, and she's in there! Why did you call the monster _back_?"

"Why did I…?" Shaking the sheer confusion away, Nadir chuckled. And again, until it turned into full-blown throaty laughter. "Now you're just _asking_ me to disembowel you. You're a noble. You _know_ what happens when you touch somebody else's property. I should execute you, and leave not a trace to be found. But I'll give you one shot. One last shot."

Blade gleamed as he pulled the sword from its sheathe, smile on his lips borderline animalistic.

"See, Mika here, he's a clever little kitten. He knows what he can touch, what he can't, what it's okay to bite, and what he ought to stay away from, unless if he wants an extra scar. And that makes you lucky bastards. _Very_ lucky bastards."

Two pairs of now _very_ worried eyes focused on the lazy feline stretching in the backstreet, sharp claws very much in their line of sight.

"See," Nadir tutted, "I don't know what slave you're after. I don't _care_. Work is work. Asking questions gets you killed. Even the brattiest, dumbest kids know it. But Mika here has a _really_ good sense of smell. Which means your little slave hung out with my precious wife long enough for her scent to _stick_. That makes your slave my precious wife's friend, and I _do not_ let my kittens hurt _anyone_ who my precious sweetheart counts as a friend."

Oh, they were beginning to get it. He could see it, in the way the skin of their face looked so much paler in comparison to the skin of their necks. How neat it would be to just slice right through.

"We have no business with your wife—"

"Ah, but you _do._ " Nadir twisted his sword once, watching them flinch. If they had any guts to back up their actions, they would've drawn those swords by now. But they didn't, which made them cowards, show-offs and quite frankly rather annoying clientele. "See, my wife? She's a sweetheart. Always in trouble one way or another, but she makes friends real easily. Part of what I love about her, really. We wouldn't get along half as well if she were any less crazy." His smile dropped. "But right now, she's really upset with me. My other wives think she's just being an attention whore. Who knows, maybe they're right? But tell me, what is a man to do when his wife is upset, huh?"

"Er — that's…"

"Not _kill her fucking friend_ , that's what!" Nadir snarled. Regained his composure almost immediately, and lifted the sword. "So. Because I almost ended up doing that because of you, it's something I gotta fix. Now let's put our heads together and think. If Aisha got her hands on you, what would she do?"

The idea came to him almost immediately, lips stretching into a lazy grin.

"Ah. Yeah. She'd like that. She'd like that very much. You can have your money back, by the way. But considering where you're going, I don't think you'll need it. Much."

* * *

Okay, show of hands, who remembers Nadir? (hahah okay, that's not fair, the only time we mentioned him was waaaay back in chapter one... Marina really doesn't like him btw.)

Second thing. I got an interesting question in PMs so I figured this bit I might share outside the story too. Character ages. Not for everyone, but the most important ones.

Aisha is 19

Marina is 25

Mel is 12, going on 13

And as a quick reminder, canon characters before the slave arc starts are: Sinbad 16, Ja'far 12, Hinahoho 23, Mystras 16, Drakon 16 and Serendine 18. Yeah, they haven't shown up yet, but Drakon and Seren are gonna be pretty important. Aisha kind of stole their thunder, but Sinbad is still going to want to know what happened on that front. Let's just deal with the obvious problem first. Sort of.

Next chapter is gonna be backstory-heavy, for Mel and Aisha both. We're finally getting to that bit how Sin and Aisha met. See ya next week!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Welp. I thought about including flashbacks, but given how things work out later, I think this was the better way? Ah well, too late to worry now.

Hope ya like it!

* * *

Shivering from where she was hiding behind a giant pillar, Mel hugged herself closer, but it did nothing to ward the chill away. "This is bad. This is really, really bad."

Half a step behind her, one of the Sindrian girls who'd been helping her around frowned, still not convinced they had no other choice but to stay there and _hide_ , when everybody else was obviously eavesdropping. But she indulged her, and Mel was grateful for that. They couldn't be seen. Or rather, _she_ couldn't be seen. Maybe this city was different, maybe the people were different as well, and people kind like Aisha really existed, but Mel had seen this before. She knew how it ends.

She could _not_ be seen, no matter the price.

She wasn't courageous like Aisha. She couldn't look her fears in the eyes and tell them to leave her alone. She wasn't strong like her brothers. She couldn't punch somebody hard enough without hurting herself. All she had was years and years of helping manage a store under her belt, before those scary man had shown up and destroyed _everything_ —

 _Don't think about it._

But it was hard not to think about it. Her brothers had fought so vehemently, and there was so much blood — and she hadn't been able to do anything, just scream, when they caught her and put her to sleep, and when she woke up, everyone was gone, she'd been taken halfway across the country and the chains on her feet simply wouldn't _get off._

 _Don't. Think._

She wouldn't cry. Aisha, Marina and everyone in Sindria Trading had been so kind to her. Miss Tamira had only arrived hours before Mel herself and she'd already been kind enough to wish for her recovery. Sinbad, a _hero_ , had accepted her and offered her work. Paid work. _Proper_ work. And Mystras smiled at her even after she admitted she'd tricked him and she'd almost burst out crying right then and there, but she couldn't. For their sake, she had to keep it together. They were the ones in trouble now. There was no room left to be a coward, not anymore.

 _But what can I do?_

Well, any way she looked at it, the only answer that came to her was "Not much".

 _Think. Just think about it. There has to be a solution. Not everyone in this situation lost. Some managed to pull through._

But usually, when the Merchant Administration Guild showed up at your doorstep to confiscate property over a debt, that was it. There was no going back. Unless if the company somehow managed to scrape enough money together and pay back the debt immediately, but even that, in some ways cost too much.

 _Not happening here, though. Nobody knew about this, nobody expected this. It's the same like Remano. Sinbad can argue as much as he likes, they're not going to listen. Whoever is behind this paid the guild enough, they don't care—_

Wait. Who would be behind this?

 _Is it… because of me? Did they come after Sindria because of me? Because Aisha saved me and brought me here?_

It couldn't be. She hadn't been here even for a day. Something like this had to be set up months, perhaps even _years_ ahead. It had trap written all over it, in huge, shiny letters, and it would've only been more obvious if somebody had forged the letters and nailed them to the wall.

From where she was hiding, there was very little of it that Mel could hear. Sinbad had managed to at least get the city guards out of the building without letting them take anything. Or at least Mel hoped. Most of the people eavesdropping by the entrance looked somewhat relieved. And she'd rather be optimistic in this case.

 _I can help. I should help._

But she didn't know how. Warn them of the problem? Most people already seemed to have realized it for themselves. Explaining why and how it came to happen? Even if they cared, Mel suspected that wouldn't be the first thing on their minds now. Help them find a solution?

 _Maybe there is a way. But it wouldn't be fast enough._

Did that really matter? If the people behind this were the ones Mel thought they were, then the only time that mattered was the amount of time Sinbad could get—

A whip of pink, and Aisha rushed past them, pale and in a hurry.

"Aisha! Aisha, wait! Please, you have to listen—"

Strong hands caught her before she could sprawl over the floor and Mel almost sagged in relief. Though the relief disappeared almost immediately, like the candlelight gone with a single gust of wind, when she saw the horrified expression on her face.

"Mel, what are you…? No, not the time. You can't stay here. You're in danger. Those men from Remano—"

"You mean those that came to Red Velvet?" Mel shook her head. She couldn't be afraid, not of them. They were nothing compared to what might happen if Sinbad lost his company. "I know. It doesn't matter, this is important. They're trying to take Sinbad's company—"

"Yes, Mariadel, I know—"

"No, you don't get it! It's — it's a strategy. Papers are fake, numbers in the contract get changed, and without the originals, there's just no way to prove it. The debts grow, not much at first, but something always happens. Pirate raids. Bandits. Sometimes the prices just go down for no reason. Due day comes, and people can't pay — and my master was so happy, because that was another mission gone right—"

Strong hands gripped her shoulder, grounding her back to reality. "Mel? Mel, calm down." Oh, no, she was crying again, she had to stop crying—

"Look at me," Aisha said, in that calm voice that made Mel listen, every time, even when she'd rather crawl into a hole and die. "Are you worried about Sinbad and his company? It's fine. I know. They're going after him on purpose. Sinbad knows it too, let him deal with it. I have to get you out of here."

Mel nodded. Tried to calm down, but Aisha didn't get it, she needed to understand, she needed to make her understand, before they ended up on the run again.

"Aisha, _wait_!"

Aisha stared, stunned, and Mel inhaled, more than a little apologetic for the way she'd ripped her hand free. She'd gone too far. She'd gone too far and she knew it, but she didn't want to run. She'd had enough of running. Every time she'd tried, she'd ended up in worse chains than the last. She wasn't going to let it happen again.

"Sinbad's company is in trouble," she said. "And they're probably not going to let him delay it. If the papers are fake—"

Aisha grit her teeth. "They aren't. At least, I don't think they are."

"Right. Then… that makes this a little harder, but it can still be done."

"What do you mean? Wait… you belonged to Frodor, right? And this is a strategy, something they regularly do…"

"I think I can fix this. "Mel debated on telling everything, right then and there. Coming clean, admitting to every single wrong thing she'd done, and the last, final, _only_ idea she had that could maybe help. Thought of the consequences, and realized she didn't really want to know what would happen if this went wrong. But she could help — and so she would.

And thank to the heavens, Aisha looked equally determined, voice thick with emotion. "How?" The look in her eyes was hard, unyielding. Not a single ounce of doubt. _I knew it, I knew she was the right person for this._

Mel swallowed. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you. I wish I could, but the last person I told—" and damn it all, tears were back again, there had been so much blood. Rubbing her eyes raw, she shook her head. She didn't have time for that, not now. "But I can do it. I'm sure of it. I — I helped make those fake contracts, I know how it's done. I just have to… I have to return to Remano first."

"Remano?"

"That's where my master was, before they gave me to Maader. Then Maader gave me to the boss and…" Mel sniffed. "It doesn't matter now. I know some things. Names. Frauds. Second time I ran, I stole some papers… If companies like Sinbad's got a hold of them, they could probably get all their money back. Maybe more. But I never took them with me, I was too scared. Mom said, if you want to hurt somebody, hit their pouch, not their crotch… I tried _both_ and nothing ever _worked_ —"

"It's going to work," Aisha said, with certainty that shook Mel to her very core. Spark flared in her eyes, a terrifying spark, very much like the one she'd seen in her master's eyes when things specifically went along too well. "I get it now. I finally get it. They're not angry with you — oh, I'm sure there's anger, too. But they're _terrified_. They slipped, they slipped so bad, and they're desperate… they want you to talk, right? No, they _need_ you to talk. No wonder they sent you to the boss, he can break _anyone_ , given the time "

Mel shivered, hands instinctively rising to cover her stomach. It didn't stop the cold, but it reminded her she had normal clothes now. No revealing outfits, no people touching her everywhere. And there were no chains around her ankles or neck. Phantom pain throbbed under the skin, the creams miss Tamira had helped spread around her injuries had done miracles, she could almost forget the hell that the trip to Napolia had been.

 _Almost._

"Can you help me, Aisha? I know it's ungrateful to ask for such a thing, you lost so much when you ran with me, but I want to help Sinbad and I can't do it alone… Aisha?"

It was all teeth. Razor sharp smile, thin and devil-like, wrapped with something dark and dangerous, incredibly so. In spite of herself, hairs on the back of her neck raised. During captivity, Mel had seen many things. From women wishing to carve their stomach out after their hideous master had left them with a child on the way, to grown, powerful men whimpering after all the abuse they had suffered.

But it wasn't like this, it was never like this.

Even at their worst, they shimmered in gold. The butterflies only Mel could see remained gold and happy and shiny. They oozed with sadness and regret, pain and misery, but their wings still fluttered. The golden glow still offered some comfort, even if nothing else did.

Aisha used to be wrapped in the same warm gold. Gentle, kind. Mel could feel it. Aisha was a lot like her older brothers had been, perhaps in some ways stronger. Warmer.

But now, pitch black streaked through the gold, sucking the warmth away and wrapping the poor butterflies in something that eerily reminded her of the limits of despair. Mel blinked and took a step back, shaking her head rapidly, because it couldn't be true. It _couldn't_. Aisha was kind, Aisha was strong, warmer than _anyone_. She had to be seeing things—

But Lady Saher was across the room, standing slightly behind the girl who looked eerily like Aisha, with eyes equally stuck to the sight — like she'd seen nothing similar before.

"I'll get you to Remano," Aisha said. "No matter what."

Nothing about her voice had changed, yet the words instead of comfort now only sowed fear.

But it didn't matter. Because even if it was scary, and this was Aisha, and Aisha deserved to be bathed in gold, not swallowed in suffocating darkness — Mel had no choice. This was her last chance. Third time, she'd try to set herself free.

Only this time, from regret.

* * *

"No," Sinbad said. "Not a chance."

Aisha's jaw hung open, arms shooting up, and she barely stopped herself from throwing a childish fit. Fifth time she'd brought it up, fifth time he'd refused to so much as _listen_.

It was stupid. Aisha knew she was being stupid. She didn't need permission, and she didn't care to get it. If she wanted to be a part of that negotiation, she could and would, and there was nothing Sinbad could do about it — but that wouldn't be fair.

"Just think about it. I've done this before. I don't want to interfere, but maybe—"

"No maybe's. I'm not letting you go there. Besides, somebody has to go with Mel, and she trusts you the most. Are you truly going to force her to do this on her own?"

" _No_!" Damn it all, now he was the one not playing fair. She would never force Mel to go back to her captors alone, even if it was meant to be slipping inside unnoticed. She tossed a single branch into the fire and watched it burn, fists clenching and unclenching before she looked up at the night sky, ignoring the chilly wind on her skin.

A little further away, closer to the rest of the caravan, she spied the uneasy smile on Mel's face as she listened to one of Ja'far's stories. She huddled closer to the fire, accepting the warm mug of what was presumably cocoa as Vittel handed it to her. Sent a warm smile their way, before turning back towards the others.

Aisha's eyebrows shot up as she realized Sinbad was staring into the fire with so much intensity that she was beginning to worry he might just accidentally blow it out. Given what he was capable of, it wasn't that crazy a thing to be worried about.

 _He really would've left without us, huh?_

But would he really be that petty to look sour for it even now? Eh. Maybe. But they were still here. And at least he wasn't complaining out loud. If it were that much of a problem, he would've made a point of it a while ago.

Small smile stretched on her lips. "Thanks," she murmured, pressing her chin to her chest and staring down into her dagger, and the bits of rust that had begun to gather. She really hadn't been taking care of it properly, had she?

"What for?" Sinbad asked, almost distracted.

"You didn't fly off."

"Only because you _jumped_ on me. What is with you and crazy leaps of faith?"

"It's not faith. If I know I can make the jump, I'll do it. This time I knew I could do it. And even if I didn't, I couldn't let you go. Not when we had a solution."

"I could've returned by now," he pointed out, and Aisha giggled. "It's true! I could've taken you too and went anyway, we both would've been back by now. But no. You had to pull everyone else along."

"Stop complaining. Ja'far would never let you go anywhere where you could make things _worse,_ even if by accident. And Vittel feels bad enough already. You're as glad they're here as I am." And that half-smile on his face more than confirmed it. Aisha brushed her elbow with his, and when he did nothing, leaned against him, letting the sharp blade drop onto her neatly folded cape on the grass. "But okay, I'll admit, I have other reasons for coming along. I trust Mel — and I would never let her do this alone. But I think there's something I can do in Remano, too."

"And what's that?" He shifted slightly, hands closing over his knees. She missed none of the quick glances across the field, before his gaze settled on her, prodding and addictive. So much that she almost wanted to get lost in it.

 _Bad idea. He likes easy. He just likes harder even more._

"I don't like the Capital much. But Nadia is there. And if she's there, I want to talk to her."

"You mean, you want to draw the Tridents into this even more. Like we don't have enough problems with them already. You should've told me you are one of them, by the way."

 _Damn it, how does he…?_

No, wait. He really should've figured out that one a while ago.

Aisha shrugged. "I didn't want to lie." Small smile danced on her face, but he didn't look particularly bothered. Just interested. She glanced back towards the fire. "Before you start, I'm not trying to run from it. And I wasn't trying to hide it. Much."

"Oh?"

"Ugh, fine. Yes, I was one of the Tridents. I ran into them just after I ran from the slavers, and I was alone, I had nowhere to go… I stayed with them long enough to make a few good friends. Then lose them just as easily. It's a boring story."

He snorted. "I'm not judging. Though I wish you'd at least _told_ me."

"There was nothing I could do to stop them from raiding your ships. The Tridents grew a lot over the past few years. I don't even know most of the people in Napolia. "

"So?"

He looked like he expected her to say something, perhaps in defense. Why would he do that? Maybe being a pirate was something she should've brought up. But she didn't want to, and he never asked, and it's been a long time since she'd stopped worrying about whether the things she said were truth or only half-truths.

Sinbad sighed. Gently touched her cheek, pulling her like a magnet to face him. "Fine, your point stands. But still. You should've told me. After everything, don't I deserve a bit of trust? This is important."

"Funny, that you get on my case over some people who helped make my life a little better. There's so many things I never told you. Some of them you're better off not knowing."

"Keeping it to yourself isn't going to make it much better. Same with bottling up your anger. I'm not trying to say it's misplaced. But letting it consume you, letting the revenge being the only thing to push you forward isn't going to solve anything. It's not going to make you feel any better—"

Aisha drew back slightly, desperate to put some distance between them. "You think that's what I'm doing? Exacting revenge? Don't be silly."

"Then what is it? Because let me tell you what I see. I see a girl trapped in her memories, hiding under the broken shell, afraid of the world, afraid of truly standing up for herself. And then I see her break out without any hesitation whatsoever. She grows fangs and claws and doesn't care whose blood she needs to spill in order to protect others from the pain she suffered. It's not even a need to save somebody else, you're just looking for an excuse to make those people suffer, because you managed to run when others didn't, you don't have the right to seek vengeance for yourself—"

"It's not like that." Why was her throat suddenly so dry and raw? Lips so chapped? Her voice sounded nothing like it should've, it didn't make _sense_.

But Sinbad was staring at her, cold and piercing and determined, hand on her cheek warm and soft, yet holding her frozen in place, body stiff like somebody had simply locked her muscles in place and taken the key.

"Are you sure? First time we met, you wanted to travel. You had a place where you were ready to go, no matter what it took. Next time, I find you in a tavern you obviously hate with all your heart, saying that you're leaving as soon as possible. And the next time—"

"Stop," she choked out, pained and hoarse. Barely a few words and it felt like he'd ripped a hole in her chest, one that no amount of rest and running could fix. He had no _right_ , he had no right to bring that up, she'd stayed of her own volition, but Marina _needed_ her…

"Next time, same. Another problem, another reason to stay. And every next time I see you, it's more of the same. Like you're burying yourself in pain deeper and deeper. Like you're trying to punish others along with yourself—"

" _Shut. Up._ "

Her nails tore into the collar of his shirt, fingers locked in an iron grip that pulled his face closer.

She wanted to snarl, to scream, do anything that would wipe that arrogant look right off his face. It wasn't true, none of it. Red Velvet wasn't her punishment, it was _home_ —

 _Oh._

Hold on his shirt slackened, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Hands uncontrollably shook as she tried to wipe them away, but more just kept coming, rolling down her chin, neck and dripping on her dress. She scrambled away, for space, for breath, but no matter how hard she tried, the breathing just wouldn't stay even. Fingers closed around hers, gentle and warm, interlocking with hers. He said nothing. Just looked on with that eerie calm. It didn't make _sense._

 _Stop crying. Why am I crying? This isn't—_

Sinbad pulled her into an embrace, unbothered whatsoever when she readily buried her face into his shirt. The words came by themselves, without incentive, without a conscious call. "… I wanted to travel."

"I know," he whispered softly in her ear, fingers gently brushing through her hair, easing her into the embrace, helping relieve the tension from her shoulders.

"I made a list., years ago," she murmured. "When… when they attacked the village, they killed my mom. My dad was out, hunting, they never made it back in time. So after I ran, I just… I went home. It took me so long, but I made it. Even when I didn't think I could, I did it… but he wasn't there. Few people still left in the area said he'd packed everything and left. "He might come back," they said. Apparently he'd dropped by a year after he'd left, then disappeared again. So I made a list." Short, mirthless chuckle bubbled up. "It was so stupid. I was already with Tridents, I knew we'd never stick to one place. We didn't have a mission at the time, didn't have a goal… we just wanted to survive and find some fitting place for life, so I knew we were going to travel… I just thought that maybe I could decide _where_.

"It worked… for a year. Maybe. One clash with some ships went better than expected and Nadia got ambitious. We were pirates, outlaws already, so she wanted to go after everyone that wronged us. All my travelling ideas suddenly meant nothing, because she wanted to fight. One of our arguments went wrong and I quit, I left without looking back… we were in Remano at the time, my plans were ruined, so I thought… it's okay. I'll stay alone there, I'll survive. Fast forward, Nadia's plans showed results, the Tridents mattered, people loved them, Napolia became _her_ city, more than anybody else's. She wanted everyone back."

"That didn't happen, did it?"

Aisha shook her head. "Do you remember? When we met? I was running.."

"Yeah, some crazy bandits. And then the nobles got involved. I thought you were some kind of a criminal."

Aisha chuckled. "In their eyes, I probably was. Remano's rumormill is nuts. Somebody thought I got into a fight with Nadia because I wanted to be the leader. It couldn't be further from the truth, but it went haywire anyway and some people I thought knew me _believed it_. Worse, they _wanted_ to see it happen. Then the nobles got wind of it, and they wanted to get rid of me and Nadia both… those bandits chased me all the way from Remano to Napolia, it took me _three fucking months_ to make that trip. I didn't even know what I was doing.

"Sin, when I took that plunge off the cliffs, it wasn't… I didn't _care_ what could happen. I didn't care that those bastards were chasing me, I didn't care somebody else might get hurt because of it. I was tired, so tired. When I jumped off that cliff, I could've broken a limb or two. Or I could've died. I didn't _care_."

Hand drifting to his face, she closed her fingers before she could quite touch. Hiding her face in his shirt — she doubted he'd mind. He certainly hadn't before. Both when she had reason, and when she didn't. But she was stronger than this. Had to be.

"I caught you," he said.

"Yeah. You caught me."

She touched his neck anyway, feeling the pulse under the skin, even if the last thing she wanted now was to give him incentive to think she needed comfort. She _didn't_. It had been over a year, and ever since that day, things had never gotten so bad that she'd contemplated such a thing, not once. She'd already lost too much. She didn't want to lose her life.

"Even to this day, you have no idea just _how fucking grateful_ I am for that."

"I have a pretty good idea," he snorted, nose an inch from her own, warm gold eyes blinking at her innocently. "You tried to _stab_ me for my efforts."

Aisha sniffed, taking the moment to wipe the wetness around her eyes. "You had blue hair, scales and a _fucking tail_. Worse, you were _flying_ and shooting _lightning_. What the hell were you expecting? I've never even heard of Djinns before that."

"A thank you would've been appreciated."

"I've thanked you. Again and again. Hell, I'm thanking you right now."

"I'm not hearing it." Warm breath hit her lips, skin touching, but lips never quite crushing against each other. The tension was too thick, too heavy, robbing her of breath and any coherent thought.

"You're evil," she breathed, hand on his cheek the only thing stopping her from accepting the invitation without any hesitation whatsoever. He was different, he knew it, and he was using it, whatever for. And worst of all, she let him. "This isn't helping."

"Isn't meant to. But you look like you need it, and I want it."

"Right now it's no different from running away."

He shrugged. "Then run. If you want to run, run. But I'll make sure to catch you before you run too far."

"Okay." Fingers diving into his hair, she closed the distance, pressing closer with her whole body, drawing her tongue along his lip before accepting his with everything she had. It was crazy, so completely crazy, how a need to get more of him could get so absorbing, how much she longed for somebody who seemed to know what she wanted even before she did.

A hand slipped under her dress, slowly tilting it up, when she froze, and broke the kiss, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"I don't really mind if it's open. And that there's no privacy whatsoever. But I'm _not_ going to traumatize those poor kids."

Sinbad blinked, head tilting to get a better look at what their travelling companions were doing — between Vittel holding his hands over Mel's eyes and Ja'far looking ready to murder somebody.

"That's a little much. They're not _that_ young—"

Aisha turned back to glare at him. "Not happening."

"Fine. Have it your way." Brows scrunched, he dropped all of his weight on her, and whether she liked it or not, they sprawled over the grass in a tangle of limbs, her shocked gasp echoing through the clearing. In the background, she could hear Mel's scandalized squeak. Would've laughed, if not for the fact Sinbad didn't seem to care where his fingers went.

"Cheater," she snorted. Relaxed, when he plopped beside her, close enough that she couldn't move away, but just far enough to let her breathe. Glancing aside at him, she smiled, finger tracing the single, almost invisible line under his eye. When he moved in for another kiss, she didn't run. And even if she wanted to, initially, she didn't ignore it, either. The rush of blood would never let her.

Maybe that's what made her so interesting. She was just enough smitten to let him do whatever crossed his mind, but never consumed enough to become a puppet on his strings. The way he kissed her was just enough to leave her wishing for more. But not enough to walk past the limits she set for herself.

And maybe the fact he didn't push was what made him interesting right back.

Breaking the kiss, he sank back down, a strangest of smiles on his face. "Don't try that again."

Aisha blinked. "Huh? Try what?"

"Jumping off the cliffs. Don't do that again."

"Oh. I wasn't planning to… Why…?" She blinked again. His face buried in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hand wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. She glanced up at the sky riddled with stars, fingers gently brushing through his hair. "That's not fair. I'm not going anywhere. And you're the only one who's comfortable resting this way."

The snort in her neck told her exactly what he thought of _that_.

"Fine. But if I end up punching you in the face, that's your fault. And _don't_ start anything. Really."

"You really ought to trust me a little more on these things."

"I'm pretty sure I trust you far more than you actually deserve. Your reputation is spotty at best."

"Now you're just being mean for the hell of it."

"Just saying." Aisha snorted, lips gently brushing against the shell of his ear. "Good night."

* * *

Brushing her fingers through the tangled strands of hair, Aisha raised a single eyebrow when she caught Mel staring. Again. The caravan had only stopped for a short break, and already Mel was back to eerie silence and obvious staring. If it had been funny in the morning, now it had long since gotten vexing. "Okay, that's enough. Spit it out. What is it that you want to ask? You know I'm not shy, and honestly, I really don't care. So out with it."

Cheeks burning, Mel rapidly shook her head. "Ah, no… I just…"

"Come on, girl, _ask_. Really. Anything is fine."

"Anything?"

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Then… um, have you.. have you ever noticed the butterflies?"

"Have I…what?" Caught flat footed, Aisha stared, more than a little confused. "I thought this was going to be about Sinbad. What do you mean, butterflies?" Would've cared for the answer, if she hadn't caught Vittel sneaking towards them, half-smirk on his face as he motioned her to stay quiet. Decided not to shoo him off when she noticed the wrapped up package under his arm.

"Ah, no, it's just — _aaaaah!_ "

Strong, callused hand hiding her face out of sight, Mel squeaked, much to Aisha's endless amusement. Vehemently fought to pry Vittel's hands from her eyes, only to freeze when he pushed the package into her unassuming hands. Almost dropped it, wide-eyed.

"There," he said. "We figured you deserved a little gift. And I included something extra. I'm sure Aisha can help you figure out how to use it."

"What do you…" she stopped, stunned, when within the paper wrap, she found a dagger. Sheathe coated in gold shimmered in the late afternoon sun as small fingers wrapped around the hilt, hesitant, _afraid_. "M-Mister Vittel, this… this is too much, I don't know how to repay you—"

Awkwardly, he scratched the back of his head. "Well, I'd rather you never need to use it, but where you're going, you're going to need something to defend yourself with. Aisha? You look like somebody who knows her way with sharp and pointy. Teach her well, okay? Though there's not much time left. You're going in there as soon as we arrive, right?"

Aisha swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. "We'll… we'll arrive by sunset. Then we still have some time, before we break in. It's enough for the basics. I hope."

"Right. Ja'far and I are going with Sin, but, if you need a hand, 'til we separate, we know something about sharp and pointy too."

"Right. … thanks." She didn't watch him leave. Prying eyes from the blade was a little too difficult, especially when she noticed how clumsily, hesitantly Mel held it. "May I have a look?"

Mel glanced up, blinked, then wordlessly handed her the dagger.

"It's light," Aisha noted, drawing it from the elaborate sheathe. "The hilt is good, too. It won't slip. The guard looks a little more fancy than durable, but it'll do fine. They made a really good pick."

Mel nodded, hesitantly accepting the weapon back. "But why would he… I don't know how to use it, I don't know _anything_ …"

"How to grip it, how to stab… When to hold tight and when to ease, that can all be learned. What's more important is the mindset — are you, or are you not willing to hurt somebody with it? Even the best forged sword in the world is no better than a twig if you're afraid to use it."

"I don't want to hurt anyone!" Grip onto the dagger, tightening, Mel sniffed. "But if I have to… I want to know how. So teach me. Please."

Aisha stared at her for a long moment, before a small smile broke out on her face. "Got it. Rule number one, thumb out. You don't want to get it broken. Rule number two—"

"Not _now_!" Mel squeaked. "I'm not ready, and everybody else is packing up—"

"Rule number two," Aisha insisted, " _always_ be prepared. You never know when somebody might catch up when you're on the run, and you never know who could be coming from behind. Rule number three, _always_ stay calm. Even if the guy in front of you is three times your size and holding a sword longer than your body, you can't panic. Bigger isn't always better. The bigger sword he uses, the slower he'll move. And you can always be faster."

"But what if I'm scared?"

"It's okay to be scared. You just can't wait for it to pass. Because by the time it does, you'll be dead. So. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"... No. But I don't have a choice. I _want_ to try."

"Good. Now, we don't have much time. Take that knife and come at me." Aisha watched the color drain from her face, feeling her lips stretch into a grin. "You won't know if you don't try. But I promise, I won't let you get anywhere close.

"Come. Show me what you've got."

* * *

"Sin…"

"Oh, Ja'far. I see you don't look happy."

"Happy? You're letting those two do something highly dangerous and illegal, and you're surprised I don't look _happy_?"

"Well, whether I agreed or not, they were dead set on doing it anyway. Besides, who am I to stand in their way if they wish to fight for what they perceive as just." Sinbad stood up from where he'd been resting on the grass, and dusted off his pants. "But I don't want them to get hurt. Do you?"

"That's not what this is about. You want me to _babysit_."

"Well, who else? Vittel and I are just going to talk. But the girls — they may get in far more trouble than that. Who better to yank them out?"

"So this has nothing to do with what you may gain if their plan _succeeds_?"

At that, Sinbad laughed. "Whatever do you mean, Ja'far? Of course they're going to succeed. And so will we. You just make sure they live to see it happen."

"... understood, Sin."


	6. Chapter 6

Whoops. My hand slipped.

* * *

"Alright," Aisha began. "Quickest way in, quickest way out. If at any moment, it looks like they saw us, run without me. They don't know me, I can lie, and it doesn't matter if they believe me or not. But if they see you…"

Gripping onto the hilt of her dagger, Mel looked up and up and _up_ , until the very roof of the intimidating building came in sight. A shudder overcame her, at the prospect of what could happen if they caught her. "They won't," she promised. And even if they did, she had a couple of nasty surprises in wait.

The night was clear and warm, countless stars in the sky allowing a good look at the entrance she'd picked, small and generally known only to those who had the fortune of being dragged immediately into the basement. Mel had the fortune to end up down there twice, and she was not planning to let it happen the third time.

As they'd expected, the mansion was guarded, but not heavily so. Two guards at the front, two at the balcony and likely more inside. If things went according to plan, then maybe they'd be able to get away with this without being noticed.

Beside Mel, Aisha clicked her teeth, unusually tense.

"Something wrong?" Mel asked.

"No. It's just — this is too calm. Too easy. You know how many members of the national guard on the streets we saw. If there's an event big enough to put them on the ropes, this place isn't guarded enough. Any robber with half a brain would try to use this."

Mel shuddered. "They… honestly, they better not. My master has… a philosophy. If anything gets in, he isn't going to let it get out. Which is why, please don't let them catch you."

"Oh, I'm not planning to," she said confidently. "That's our way in?"

Glancing back at the heavy metal door, Mel nodded. "They're unlocked. Think you can open it?"

Looking down at her, Aisha smirked. "One way to find out."

And, as it turned out, Aisha couldn't.

For all the effort, pushing and trying, all she managed was to move the door just enough to peek inside — and see nothing, for the torches in the halls, as Mel had been expecting, had not been lit. She watched in amusement a little longer, until red faced and frustrated, Aisha turned to her, with a frown.

"There is a trick, isn't it?"

Mel looked away, and tried to appear innocent.

"Oh I can't believe you. Marina said you're an imp, but is this really the time?"

Pouting, Mel sighed. "Fine. There is a lever."

"You have _got_ to be kidding—"

"But it's really heavy! And screechy! It makes a lot of noise, okay? Do you agree now that we should've had somebody else come with us?"

Aisha crossed her arms, eyes slightly narrowed. Fixed her scarf when it slipped off her shoulder, again. Sighed. "Okay, fine. But the more people try to sneak into place, the more attention they'll catch. Besides, we agreed. If Sinbad makes it back by the time we head out, that's fine. But if they don't…"

"I know," Mel sighed. "Think their talk went well?"

"I don't know. But we can't wait to find out. Now, are you gonna help me with the door or not?"

Mel chuckled awkwardly. "But it was fun watching you try. Sorry … yea, I'll help now."

* * *

Aisha had heard a _lot_ about the Froder company. From how they happened to be the absolute best silk manufacturer this side of the world, to the fact they were the most foul, greedy, insincere merchants that existed. Most of the latter had come from her friends among the Tridents.

What they'd failed to mention, however, was that even their, according to Mel, _worst_ housing facility, looked better than what most of the richest Napolian merchants could afford. Not that Mel had been happy pointing that out. Even pretty houses like these had awful, cold and wet rooms that were worse than actual dungeons. And those were the slave facilities. Rooms, beds, privacy…

Unless if there were horse stalls outside. In those cases, she'd have better chances looking there, first.

Aisha fought her bout of righteous anger. _Napolia at least has_ standards _._

The only problem was, now that they were inside, not even Mel was sure about the way, especially not in the pitch darkness that caught them inside. Aisha ignored her unease and pulled out her dagger, while blindly reaching out to find the wall.

Certain parts of the manor would always, _always_ be lit, Mel had informed her. But Aisha was more than sure those were exactly the places they needed to avoid at all costs. Guards would be there, and she could never discount the possibility that some nobles were as much night owls as the girls were.

So she'd insisted on silently moving in the dark, no lighting torches, no making any unnecessary sounds. Even if the first indent in the wall and an animal, possibly spider, crawled along her hand and Aisha fought the urge to scream. Ripped her hand from the wall and shook it until the sleazy, crawly sensation on the back of her palm was gone, the entirety of her body still suffering aftershocks for several moments before she dared to proceed.

"You okay?" Mel whispered.

"Yeah. At least it wasn't a snake."

That thought honestly wasn't particularly comforting, not really.

Much to her endless frustration, the first door they'd run into were the kitchen. She could tell by the traces of char and soot on the wall, sticking to her fingers before she'd ever tried opening the door. _Wonder why they haven't forced those poor slaves to rub it off. Bastards._

She wouldn't ask Mel, though. She already looked to be fighting off her own demons.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the where the door were, if only thanks to the bits of light slipping under the door. She could make out two rooms in the vicinity, two more down the hall, and a suspiciously large area with seemingly none of it.

"Which way?" she asked.

"We have to turn left. I just don't remember if there's a door before it. I think not."

"You _think_?"

"There's several ways in," Mel hurried to explain. "Two actual doors, and the others are tunnels. I only ever used the tunnels that lead to the dining rooms so this is the only way we can take… unless if you want to go to the front door. I really don't."

"... Fair enough." Though, admittedly, she'd heard about nobles going out of their ways to keep the slaves out of sight. She just hadn't expected for that to be applied to the entire building. Finding Mel's shoulder, she pulled to a stop. "Give me a second. You said left?"

Affirmative grunt. Aisha sighed, and slowly inched her fingers along the wall. Fingers met metal and she snorted. Glanced down, but there was no change. Just pitch darkness. And cool air around her bare ankles.

"There's a way here," she said. "It's either a hallway or an open room."

"There are no open rooms down here," Mel breathed. "That's gotta be it."

"Right." After a moment of inward celebration, Aisha searched for the handle and pushed, as gently as possible, and froze when the metal _screeched_. In the deadly silence, Mel's breath hitched. But after a few moments of deadly silence, Aisha decided to try anyway. Just softer. But she still cringed at any bit of sound the rusty metal made.

 _Please don't let them hear us… please don't let them hear us._

"A-Aisha? It's okay… I think."

"Yeah."

She didn't open the door the whole way, just enough for the girls to slip in, only barely. The bits of light at the end of the hall almost made her run back, but Mel pushed her in impatiently. "It's fine, that part is always lit. Look for a door on the right. Second."

"Oh god, you ran twice, and this is how—"

"They think I used the tunnels. Nobody knows the door here are unlocked. Because they only use this part for interrogation, so the screams don't get heard in the rest of the place."

Creepy, Aisha decided. Creepy, and she'd rather have not known about that. But objectively, it didn't seem that difficult to run from this place. Two dark halls, a pair of heavy metal doors, and maybe an occasional guard that could hear it. Aisha couldn't blame Mel for trying. Although, admittedly, she didn't really have the right to judge. Most of her own running had consisted of running, screaming and stabbing people before they realized one of their slaves had cut loose.

 _I guess we both got lucky. Very lucky._

 _Hopefully it'll work this time, too._

"Over there!" Mel said, pulling her across the hall before latching onto a door. Then freezing, head violently shaking. "Oh no. I'm probably going to wake everyone. No, no, no… I don't want them to get in trouble."

"Everyone? What do you mean, wake up everyone? Mel?"

But the girl ignored her, grit her teeth, and pressed all her weight down on the handle. Metal clanked, then screeched as it scratched against cold stone. Aisha winced, pulled on her dagger and glanced down both sides of the hall.

For several moments, there was only silence. Then—

"Guys?" Silent. Fearful. But it was Mel's voice, alright. When she got no response, she slipped further inside, breathing ragged. "Um… guys?"

Aisha head the chains rattling and covers shuffling as people moved, followed by Mel's relieved sigh that almost had her pulling the door firmly shut behind them. There was nobody coming out yet, but she really didn't want to find out if they had any other means of escape from this place.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Stale air, combined with bodily waste almost left her gagging. What she found in there turned out to be much, _much_ worse.

Under a single lit torch, almost a dozen men and women of all ages, all dressed in blood stained rags, with chains around their ankles and nailed to the wall. Many had huddled together under the torn pieces of stained bedsheets to ward off the cold night air, but something like that wouldn't be enough to warm a single person, let alone four of them.

She knew, she _knew_ she had to shut the door if she didn't want attention, but the smell was making it difficult to focus. She wanted _out_ , to just grab Mel and run for it. She'd come equipped to find several documents, not once again live through the hell she'd almost died to run from.

… _I can't ignore this. That man… that man isn't a noble, he's a fucking monster—_

The oldest of them began to rise, limbs thin as sticks and in spite of herself, Aisha pushed the door shut, careful about the way she stood, her body language, and about the way her braid fell, about the way she breathed. More of the tired, exhausted eyes settled upon them, some of the slaves retreating back, with fear radiating off them in droves, while others leaned forward, as if preparing for a physical confrontation, until Aisha remembered to hide her dagger out of sight.

The tallest, strongest looking man of all still didn't look like he'd accept that. He stood up, chains around his feet rattling, but Aisha could see he'd never make it to where they were standing, she didn't need to move—

"Wait!" Mel gasped. "Ehsan, _wait!_ "

He froze, as whispers spread through the group and Mel stepped closer into the light, removing the scarf she'd used to hide her face. "It's— it's okay, guys. She's a friend. Aisha — she's like us."

Not quite, no, but it seemed to pacify the crowd, somewhat. But these were slaves. Most, as it happened, feared their masters too much to allow a stranger to simply walk into their midst, even if a slave themselves. And it tore Aisha's heart to pieces to see the elderly woman across the room look at them the way she did. Pained and frightened, borderline in tears.

"Good lord, you silly child, _what_ in the seven hells are you doing here?"

Mel threw herself in the waiting embrace. "I came back, Aunty! I'm back!"

"When they caught you, I thought — certainly, this is it. They would kill you, they'd never let you—"

"I tricked them," Mel sniffed. "I took something, something important. They want it back, but I won't do it, I promise. I'll pay them back for everything they did to me, to you, to the twins, to everyone."

More people began to stir and Aisha fought an onslaught of tears at the pure happiness radiating off the two girls in the corner. Fourteen, couldn't possibly be any older than that. Yet the marks from the chains on their necks and arms were darker than most she'd ever seen. Several more chains shifted and Aisha managed to make out the sounds of a person moving across the room, before another flicker of flame lit up the room.

"How in the heavens did you manage to enter this place, child?" the elderly slave asked, silvery strands of hair framing thin, drawn and wrinkly face. "We thought for certain, after you ran again, they'd make sure nobody could ever _try_."

Mel pulled out of the embrace, wiping the tears off her face, as she turned to face the elder. "That's because they don't know how. I — I had to pick locks… and it took time, it always took time, but they're stupid, they never use the dungeon door. They'd never figure out I left them unlocked. I can take you with me! Aisha is here too, we'll never let them catch us. We can all run!"

No. No, they couldn't, a rational part of Aisha screamed. There was no _way_ nobody would notice over a dozen people moving at this hour, they'd be caught before they ever made it across the street.

 _But maybe, if you plan this right—_

"It's too late for us, sweetheart," the elderly woman said. "We're nothing more than merchandise to be used. Where would we go?"

"B-but— there's a way!" Mel argued. "There always is. They caught me the first time, and then they caught me again, but look! I'm free! I'm actually free now! Aisha saved me! And if I can be free, then so can all of you! Please, listen to me! I can unlock the chains, and we can get you all out of here, I _promise_."

Some looked like they _wanted_ to believe it. Aisha grit her teeth at the several scrutinizing glances headed her way, but she wouldn't waver. Mel had a point — they could do it. It would be dangerous, and maybe they would get caught, but there was a way. And she couldn't walk out of this place on her own, no matter how much she'd tried, her conscience would never let her.

 _But they won't agree, will they?_

She could see it in their faces. Those few that had little hope left relied on those who didn't, and just following where everyone looked made it clear who exactly had the authority in this place.

Aisha almost wished it had been Ehsan. He looked like he'd murder somebody, if only he could, which was hardly a good mindset, but he at least seemed to be willing to try.

But the elder shook his head sadly, aged eyes focusing down on his knees. And Mel, better than anyone, knew exactly what that meant.

Fighting a sniff, she nodded. "Tell me, uncle, is my box where I left it? Did anyone touch it?"

"No, of course not — silly child, what—"

But the girl already ran over to the darkest corner, glancing at her dagger once before discarding it and staring into the ground. Tears rolled down her cheeks, barely visible under the flickering flames, before she inhaled. And stabbed her nails into the ground.

Aisha froze. "Wait a second—"

Maybe her shoes weren't the best, but she could feel it. The stone under her feet was cold and strong and there was no way, _no way_ she would succeed in what Aisha thought the girl was doing — but a single piece of stone gave way. Long and wide as a piece of paper, but thick like several hundreds of them stacked together, the piece that ought to be heavier than a metal shield began to rise from the ground, and Aisha could swear she saw the bits of warm yellow light dance around thin fingers.

 _No… no way, it can't be. It just_ can't.

But nothing else made sense, Mel didn't have the strength in her arms, not the kind of strength it would take to lift something like that with the tips of her nails without completely ripping them off—

 _Oh no. I should've known._

She caught a scowl, dark and laced with anger, and she tensed. Ehsan crossed his arms at his bare, scarred chest, dark eyes narrowing into slits.

"Well," he said expectantly. "What's your story?"

"My…?" _Oh. They're protecting Mel… they know she can do this, of course they do, they're protecting her… god, I was so stupid, I should've guessed—_ Aisha cleared her throat. There'll be time for panic, but later.

"I, uh… I spent a fair share of time in a place similar to this," she managed, amazed with how calm her voice came across. "My apologies. We didn't mean to cut into your downtime. It doesn't appear like you get many opportunities to rest."

"Does anyone in our position, dear?" the woman asked, plump cheeks drawn and sunken. She looked like she had been a beautiful lady, once upon a time. Now, she looked like a hollow shadow of a human being. But there was kindness in her eyes. So much of it, especially when she'd hugged Mel.

Aisha shrugged, a small, guilt-filled smile on her face. "Sorry." Hands tightened into fists, when she noticed alarm in several faces. They must've noticed the dagger by now.

"Everyone, listen to me," she began, muscles on her face tightening into a mask of unshakable confidence. Took a deep breath, and steeled herself. She would only have one chance to try this. "I imagine most of you have been here in Remano for at least several years now, am I correct? " She waited for the nods, before allowing a small smirk. "Then I imagine you must have heard of the Tridents."

More nods, followed by urged whispers, but many still looked at her with suspicion. Not the most cooperative bunch she'd worked with, but the spark of attention was there. For now, that would have to do.

"My name is Aisha," she said, stronger now. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, but if she wanted to do this, there was no other way. So she steeled her nerves. And she talked. "I come from Jana. It's a small village, north of Parthevia. Very close to the border." Small smile rested on her face, with no trace of amusement. "You know what happens with the villages near the border. I was eleven when they came."

The woman gasped, calloused hands rising to cover her mouth. "Oh, you poor, poor child—"

"Is there a point to this?" Ehsan hissed.

"Yes," Aisha said, with as much patience as she could muster. "They took everything I had, they took my possessions, they took my freedom and they killed my mother. I was alone. I never stood a _chance_. Yet I'm standing right here. No more chains. No more whips. No more pain. I'm free. I did it. And if I did, if Mel did, then so can you."

She didn't flinch away from looking them in the eye, even if some looked like all they wanted was to cover under the hole riddled bedsheets and disappear. Many looked at her with fear. Few with fearful respect. Ehsan looked like he wanted to punch her in the face and rip her limb from limb. But she couldn't let her gripes with this show. If she was any less confident, if got any less certain of her decision, they would know it, they would feel it, and they needed somebody to trust.

 _I'm not the right person for this._

But they trusted Mel. And if they trusted Mel, it meant they would at least give her the benefit of the doubt, until she could connect them with those worth their trust.

"Didn't the thought ever crossed your mind?" she asked. "I know I thought of it countless times. Run, just get away. I'm not a slave, I don't want to be a slave… but I stepped out of line, and I got punished for it. If I made a mistake, I got punished for it. Either they beat me, or they didn't feed me… Sometimes, they'd get creative. At one point, it was just too much. I ran. Others ran with me. Not all of made it, but we _tried_ , and because we tried, we succeeded. You must've heard the story countless times before, but let me tell you. When we ran, there was thirty — no, forty of us. Twelve of us made it."

A single gasp, a young teenager in the back. "The Tridents — you're one of the _founding members_?"

"Yeah," Aisha nodded. "You know, when we ran, we were completely on our own. We had no clothes, we had no food, or water, but we _made it_. And now, to this day, we made it work for others. I personally took part in freeing the slaves from the southern provinces. Not a single life was a lost, and over a hundred people walked free that day. But none of it would've happened if they hadn't been willing to try."

Throughout many skeptical and fearful looks, she managed to find a couple — those few who still retained the spark in their eyes. She focused on them.

"We're on your side. Always. But on our own, there is very little we can do. So tell me. Don't you want to try?"

"A-Aisha… Aisha, you…" Mel stared at her, with a wooden box desperately clutched to her chest. "You would, wouldn't you? Even if I didn't ask…"

"Of course I would. Do you have what we came for?"

A sharp nod, and a quick move to wipe the still wet cheeks, Mel hummed in agreement.

Aisha glanced over the slaves again, coming to a stop when she met the elder's eyes, wide, but hesitant. Some of the soot and dirt had caught in what little of white hairs remained on his head. "I … To think those weren't just rumors… But what you're doing now, it's illegal, you must be aware of that? Even the Tridents always work within the law. Stretch it, yes, but such things are just—"

"Not really," Aisha said. "We never would've gotten this far if hadn't broken several laws. But the Tridents are _pirates_. The moment we sail you off into the international waters, not even Reim's laws can hold you back."

"And how the fuck are we supposed to get onto a ship?" Ehsan snapped, with a dark scowl on his face as he rattled the chains. "There are ships in port, but this is a landlocked city. It'd take _days_ to get to the sea, and even longer to sail off into the international waters. Or worse, we'd have to travel by land. And there's no way we can do it. How is going out there going to help _anyone_?"

Aisha grit her teeth. But she wasn't here to be a motivational speaker, nor did she have the time to convince those who didn't care to listen.

"There is a ship in port," she said. "The Advena isn't as big as other ships the Tridents possess, nor is it as infamous, but it would take you just the same. You decide whether it's worth the effort."

She could see hope resurfacing in their eyes, a spark, no more than that, but it was there.

"As for how I'm going to get you out of here—out of this building, worry not." She pulled the dagger from the sheath at her back, and a single, thin nail, twisted beyond repair. Placed it into Mel's waiting hand, and smiled. "We managed to get in on or own. You better bet we're prepared to do whatever it takes to get out. So. Who wants to go first?"

* * *

"Alright, listen carefully. Ehsan warned us that they're moving in shifts. The guys on the balcony are a little lazy, so we can use that, and one of those stationed inside is napping. Other than that, there is two guards at the front door, we don't need to worry about them, and one more pair guarding the treasury at the second floor. If we get loud, those guys can hear us, so we need to watch out. Any questions?!"

From the eleven slaves seated at Aisha's feet, worried and twitchy and obviously afraid, not a single one dared to so much as breathe. Mel watched them with pride, because once the twins had asked her to take the chains off their feet, everybody else had looked a little happier as well.

So she did it, she called on the butterflies to help, because maybe it was okay that she was the only one who could see them. As long as they were willing to help her get the others free, she didn't mind. And Aisha had looked so surprised so maybe she couldn't hide it, not really, but that was okay.

 _We're getting out of here. And so is everyone else._

 _I don't mind telling her everything._

"Okay, then, here's how we're going to do this," Aisha said, strong and authoritative, in ways Mel never thought she could be. But she was, and, more importantly, she seemed to know what she was doing, so she was going to forgive the fact that she lied. Just this once.

"Majority of you knows how to get to the port from here, right? Good. Split in pairs. Those who don't know, stick with those who do, because we're going to have to do this in shifts. Ehsan, and Tiel? You guys have some fighting experience, right?You'll stay here, in case something goes wrong. Mel, you're going with me."

"Yes!"

Several synchronized nods, and a single glare. Ehsan really didn't seem to like Aisha, but he only ever liked kids, so Mel didn't want to hold it against him. He wanted to help. He always did. Even when everybody else had told she was being an idiot, Ehsan had brought her that first nail she'd used to run. For that, Mel would always be grateful.

"Alright. Old man, miss Anri, you first," Aisha threw over her shoulder. "I'm going to open the door. Remember to stick to the wall and try not to make noise. As soon as you get out, there's a small, dark passage between the houses across the street. You make it there without the guards on the balcony seeing you, you're safe. Are you ready?"

Mel hugged the aunty with all the strength she had, ignoring the pained itch it caused to her back. "Thank you. Thank you so much for listening!"

"Silly, stupid child…"

Aisha touched Mel's shoulder gently, and Mel pulled back. She wouldn't cry. She _wouldn't_.

"Thank you, sweet child," the aunty said, grasping Aisha's hand tightly. "That you would do such a thing for us—"

"Just go. There'll be time for gratitude later."

Aunty nodded, assisting gramps on their way out, traces of tears still glistening on their cheeks. Aisha pushed the door, inspecting the hall, before allowing them through. Tiel, one of the few people in this place that Mel didn't know, followed them out, with a chain held in his hand like a weapon. For 'self defence', he'd insisted.

Aisha hadn't argued. She likely thought this wouldn't be that easy.

 _But I have to hope. This has to work, it just has to._

Many more silently waited for the next pair to prepare, as Aisha pulled the door shut. Mel came to stand beside her, lower lip trembling. She didn't talk. Just stood there, in silence, waiting. She promised she'd tell the twins everything later. And she would.

"Time," Ehsan hissed.

Aisha moved to allow the second pair to pass through, then quickly gestured for the third to follow. "Go," she whispered. "Go, go, go."

Tiel waited for them at the end, helping them get the heavy metal door out of the way, before they were all dashing out and into the street. Aisha waited with her head peaking out, until she was certain they'd be safe. Only then did she turn to see who exactly was left.

Mel, now huddling even closer to her; Ehsan, scowling like he usually did; and the twins.

"Balbadd?" his rough voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Yes," Aisha said shortly.

"But Aktia first."

"You can get off there, too. But last I heard, slavers there have been very active recently. If you can stomach a few weeks longer sailing, I'd recommend Balbadd."

"I see." His curiosity sated, at least for now, he continued glaring at her for a little longer, before his rough voice echoed throughout the room again. "Time."

Aisha offered the girls a reassuring smile, but didn't butt in when Mel offered to escort them out. Hugged, tightly. "We'll see each other again. So just be careful out there, please."

"You too."

"Yeah."

Quick, they made way through the dark hall, one of them, from this distance, Mel couldn't tell which, stopping to hug Tiel on their way out. Stiffening a giggle, Mel turned back into the room. "They made it." But before she could entirely close them, she heard the yell that chilled her to the bone.

"Hey! _Hey!_ "

Distant, but muffled. Ripping Mel away from the door and pushing her into Ehsan's waiting arms, Aisha rushed out into the hall, long braid whipping behind her as she pulled out the dagger. Mel did the same, gripping onto the hilt, but all her hopes died when she noticed the color drain from Aisha's face.

 _She's looking left. Why is she looking… oh no. That's our way out!_

 _No! Tiel! And the twins—_

" _Go,_ " Aisha screamed. "Run, _now_!"

Multiple shouts were already ringing throughout the building. Me trembled. It couldn't be too late, it _couldn't_ —

"Ehsan, come on!"

With a firm nod, he grabbed Mel around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder, but the guard who'd noticed them slip out had no intention of letting them out of sight. Fixing the scarf around her nose the best as she could, Mel stared behind them, and the spear, reflecting the torchlight.

"Faster! We have to go faster!"

"Left!" Ehsan yelled, and Aisha obeyed, slipping past the wooden door with her dagger at the ready. The halls they'd taken were all lit, and Mel looked at Ehsan in horror.

"No! No, we can't! You'll take us upstairs, we can't go upstairs—"

"We have to throw them off! Do they look like they can run in those chunks of metal?"

"Mel's right, we don't have the time to waste," Aisha yelled. "We need a way out, and quickly. I'll fight our way through!"

"The entire place is riled up, of course we need a fucking way out—I'm working on it. There are tunnels—"

"Forget the tunnels, that's the first they'll look. We need something better."

"Servant's entrance, and the inner garden door, but that's _worse_ ," Ehsan hissed. "We'll never get out of there!"

"What about the front door?" Mel piped up from where she struggled to breathe. "If they think we're running in the back, or the tunnels, then that's where they won't be—"

"That's—"

"Genius," Aisha cut in. "But we have to lure them to the tunnels first! How?"

"Uh… the food tunnels?" Mel tried. "We'll have to go back, but—"

"Ya think!?" Ehsan snapped, but he made a sharp turn on the first corner. He was right, though, they couldn't go back, the guard was there, and Ehsan and Aisha were faster now, but he knew the building better than they did.

 _You gotta stay calm, stay calm, gotta stay calm…_

Ehsan ripped a door open and Mel stiffened. "Come on. This is the shortcut."

Aisha glanced to her for confirmation, but Mel shook her head. What they could see, though, the passage that might as well had been made for somebody Aisha's height. "I'm sorry, I don't know…"

"Never mind, no tunnels," Aisha hissed. "I don't care if it's faster, if they trap us down there—"

"We don't have a fucking choice!" Ehsan snapped, as he placed Mel back on the ground.

"Right," she agreed, tugging on Aisha's sleeve. "If I don't know where it's going, the guards probably don't either, they never use the tunnels - we can get out. We _will_ get out. Let's go."

Mel returned her dagger into the pocket and grabbed Aisha's hand, pulled her inside without letting her argue, leaving Ehsan to slam the door shut behind them, and barricade them. The stale air with the smell of fish made her nose itch, but this was way better than the idea she had. "Do I turn left or right at the end?"

"Left, then right. We'll cut right past the office."

"Oh. _Oh_. That's good." Mel clutched the wooden box tighter to her chest. There was very little she could see in the pitch dark, but she could feel Aisha's hand shaking. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I just… I don't like narrow spaces."

Mel massaged her hand softly, tugging her along to follow. Body bent as to not accidentally hit her head on the incredibly low ceiling, Aisha fought to get her breathing under control, something Mel soon recognized wasn't working out too well. Behind them, heaven only knew how Ehsan was managing, with that heights and those wide shoulders, but after a moment, he began to _snicker._

" _What!?_ " Aisha squeaked.

"Awww, but who woulda guessed that the little miss badass would be afraid of a little dark tunnel."

"Am _not_ ," she huffed with all the dignity of a terrified mouse, only drawing more snickers, this time from both sides. Mel wanted to apologize, but there was something inherently funny about Aisha, crazy, reckless, _fearless_ Aisha, being afraid of something like a tunnel. "It's not like that! Mel! Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Be honest, kid, you're not sorry at all," Ehsan noted dryly. "But I'll admit, you made quite a friend, Mel."

"Mhm!" Mel agreed flippantly. "She even forgave me when I tried to bite her. I'm really sorry about that, by the way. "

"It's fine…" Aisha didn't even bother trying to silence them anymore. In fact, only their chatter seemed to help her get her calm down enough to hold back the screams when her elbow got caught into a spider's web. Mel let her hand go, pushing the door just enough to peek through the crack.

Most of the torches in the hall were lit, but there was nobody by the door that she could see. Front door were shut, and the staircase off to their right, abandoned. She waited a few seconds longer, just listening, but other than Aisha's, Ehsan's or her own breathing, she heard nothing.

"It's okay, I think."

She pushed the door open, ignoring the ache in her back and shoulders. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to run. Miss Tamira had said the herbs would help, but Mel could already tell the wounds on her back had opened again. The robes she'd worn were sticking to the skin again. … _uh-oh. Can't have it all, I guess._

"Finally," Aisha breathed, relief visibly flooding her the moment she stepped out, wiping the dirt and chasing off the bugs that had caught in her hair. Then blinked at Ehsan in pure, unadulterated shock, when she realized he didn't even have a speck on him. " _How_?"

The man shrugged. "You cleaned it all yourself."

"Over there," Mel said, gesturing towards the pillars, and the door resting beyond them. "There'll be guards out, so we have to be ready—"

"Here! They're over here!"

It came from above, and Mel only had the time to blink before Aisha pushed her out of the way of a stool that came flying down. The wooden piece of furniture missed Aisha's foot purely by chance, and she stared in shock, before her senses returned back. "Shit! Come on!"

Mel nodded, rushed, because that hadn't been the guard, it was one of the younger nobles, but that clearly didn't make them any less easier to deal with. But they'd made the noise, and she could hear the metal clanking — and maybe Aisha's foot hadn't quite avoided the injury as Mel had thought. She hung back, pushing Mel forward, and drawing the blade from its sheathe.

"Go!"

"No! You can't stay back — I _told you_! Ehsan, tell her!"

But why was he looking at her like that, it didn't make sense—

"Ehsan, go! Get her out of here, _go!_ "

Mel was too slow to avoid the arm that wrapped around her waist. Ehsan picked her up like she weighed no more than a rag doll, threw her over his shoulder, and ran for it. No amount of trashing helped.

"No! No! Put me down! We have to help her! We can't leave her! Put me down!"

He pulled down to a stop, and Mel had almost screamed her thanks, until she realized the front door were wide open, too. "Sorry kid. I don't think we're going anywhere anytime soon."

"Oh, _no_ …"

He inched back and away from the spears, and Mel whimpered. Two from the front door, and one coming from the stairs, followed by several nobles, and the master, _oh god no,_ their master,coming down the stairs—

"No… please no… we have to run… we have to run…"

"Sorry. You know how it goes… if we apologize, we'll get the whip, but they won't…"

"We have to _GO_!" Mel screamed. She couldn't be caught again, she wouldn't. She'd _never_ let it happen. Ehsan put her down, but didn't push her when she clutched the rags that were his pants. "Please…"

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Aisha had never heard Mel sound so terrified before. Three guards, two nobles, with enough surprise, she could pull it off. But to have the surprise, she needed Ehsan, and he looked just as scared out of his mind as Mel did. The guy didn't look like he _could_ get scared, let alone so utterly terrified—

 _Don't worry about that now. There still a chance, there has to be a way._

 _If I can get the big boss, the others will be confused enough…_

And Ehsan might just snap out of it. Maybe. Hopefully enough to grab Mel and run for it.

Assuming, of course, if the guard standing in front of her didn't first slice her to pieces with that sword. _Left. The way he's standing, that's the only way he can swing. Dive under, stab if you have to. If you do it fast enough, you can get behind him before—_

A thin red string caught her attention. Almost invisible, almost untraceable, but she caught the shadow move, and a small smile split her face in two. Sinbad had said that most people working for him had hidden depths. She'd never been happier that he was right.

"Well, well, well," Froder began, in a voice that sounded equally amused and annoyed. "A pair of intruders. And a slave. Interesting that all you're trying to run with is a trashy wooden box. Want to share what that is all about?"

Mel stiffened, clutching the box even tighter, but she said nothing, made not a sound. Aisha lifted her dagger, her own breathing barely under control. _It's fine, they didn't recognize her, they didn't figure it out… we can do this._ The front door remained open, too, and Ja'far was waiting. For what, Aisha didn't know, but until he moved, neither would she. They _could_ do this. Though she'd really have to put her bluffing skills up for a test, first.

"Are you trying to tell me there aren't usable jewels in there? That I should believe the words of a filthy noble?" she demanded, in the best mocking voice she could. "Preposterous. I'd _never_ fall for that rubbish."

"Ah, but I don't think you have a choice, miss. You're at my mercy now, aren't you? Speaking of, I really ought to at least offer you tea. Not many people get this deep into my home and get to live for it. You deserve a toast for your efforts."

"Aw, but indeed I do. I even convinced your own slave to stand up against you. Don't hold that against the poor guy, I really am quite persuasive when I try."

 _Left_ , Ja'far gestured. What the hell did that mean? Was he going to get the guard closing in on Mel or did he want her to move there? Damn it, she didn't know how this covert communication worked, they were looking at her from all sides and she couldn't move, not in a way that _wouldn't_ get them both figured out.

 _I'll just have to strike first._

He could adapt way better than she could, anyway.

"I'll be frank with you, Lord Froder," she started. "I don't trust you and I don't like you. Which is why I promise not to slit your throat, as long as you let my young partner over there walk free."

Aged eyebrows quirked. And in the shadows above, a single nod.

 _Good_.

"Isn't that a boastful threat to make, my dear?"

"Ah, but it's really not. I'm just being honest. You don't want to find out what I can do with this."

From the way he glanced at her weapon, he really didn't, even if that easygoing smirk almost fooled her. "Indeed. Get them."

Too late. Even with a splinter stuck deep in her foot, Aisha was faster than anyone wearing a chunky old piece of armour could be, let alone a heavy sword. She dived under the blade, ignoring the few hairs that came off in the process.

The others never saw it coming.

For them, Ja'far might as well had shown up out of nowhere, for all the preparation they had. Thin red threads tied their legs in the spot, as blades sliced through the air, ripping the weapons from their hands as Ja'far swung down, slamming two metal helmets together with a strength that no child should have.

Froder never lost his cool, not until he realized Aisha wasn't trying to run. By the time he did, it was too late. She tackled him to the ground, dagger stopping short of stabbing his neck, and even then, only because he'd dared to grab it with his bare hands. She pushed it further, ignoring the blood that trickled along the blade, closer to his jugular, but the old bastard had more strength than she'd expected.

 _Even so._ She didn't care that it was wrong. He _needed_ to die, just making him hurt wasn't enough—

"Well," he breathed, "this looks personal."

"Oh, you have _no idea_ —"

The elbow caught her unprepared, punching the air straight out of her lungs. Old, maybe he was, but he was strong, and Aisha regretted her choice to drop the blade in the laundry and pretend it never existed. She'd been stronger when she'd been a kid, fucking hell, she was _not_ going to lose—

"Aisha!" Mel screamed.

"I'll be — _fine!_ " His blood dripped along the hilt, the slippery mess, at this rate — she twisted the wrist, almost neatly slicing through his fingers, but she didn't have strong enough grip for that. But at least it got her wrist entirely and she slammed the back of the hilt against his temple. Bought her a second to make eye-contact with Ja'far. "Get them out of here. _Now_!"

 _I'll catch up_.

But she never got her chance to say that. The old man elbowed her in the side again, with enough strength that he _heard_ the bone cracking. Rolled them both over, but not before she sunk the blade deep in his shoulder. And _sliced_.

Screams rang through the brightly lit room as she slipped out from underneath the heavy body, gripping at her pained side. Long braid hanging over her shoulder, messy and falling apart. The scarf she'd wrapped over her shoulder was on the ground where she'd been moments ago, leaving a backless dress behind. That helped explain the chill running down her spine. She managed a few steps back, breathing ragged, until a strong arm settled on her shoulder. And cold edge of a blade found her neck.

"We got her. But the others are gone, my lord," a voice said. Several guards approached to help their master stand, and Aisha didn't fight when one of them came to snatch her dagger. She couldn't, when their goodwill was all that saved her from losing her head right then and there.

"Take her down. We're going to find out _exactly_ who they were, what they were after and — huh. You look amused."

"Ah, well, my lord. I think we have our work cut for us. See, she's got this really interesting tattoo… right… over… here."

Aisha shuddered as the finger trailed up her spine, and up and up and _up_ , moving the hair out of the way, until cold wind hit the back of her sweat-drenched neck.

"Been awhile since I saw one of these and up and close like this, my lord. Should we call Lady Nadia? She did mention these blue ones were _exclusive_."

Gut twisting, Aisha tried to rip her hand free from where they'd pinned it against her back. "No. _NO!_ "

Looking up from where the impromptu bandage had just been placed, Froder smirked, with that awful, awful glint in his eyes, that made her wish she could turn into a beast at a thought and sink her claws so deep in his neck, there'd be nothing left of it—

"Ah, indeed. That's not a bad idea. Maybe she'd be able to tell us where our runaway slaves went, too. I'm quite curious about that. Leave her down for the time being. Can't have her causing trouble again, can we now?"

"No! NO!" The guttural scream that tore from her throat almost left her coughing her guts out. It couldn't be. If it were true, then not only did she send everyone into something worse, much worse than a trap, but she'd also— _NO._ It couldn't be true, it just _couldn't_ — "Nadia would _never_! Never, not with the likes of you—!"

"Ah, but Lady Nadia is a clever woman, my dear. She knows what battles she may fight. And, more importantly, which she can win. Obviously unlike yourself."

"No!" But she could scream all she liked, with the blade at her throat and hot tears rolling, she couldn't do _anything_. Especially not with that filthy bastard picking up her bloodied danger, and bringing it within an inch away of her eye. She didn't move, she didn't breathe… but she did _not_ look away, never would.

The bastard smiled.

"Well. You were right about one thing. I don't want to find out what you can do with this. So I'm going to keep it." He twisted it, leaving a clean cut along her cheek, before heading back. "Send a messenger to fetch Lady Nadia immediately. The Tridents are awfully protective of their own, they'll get rowdy if we pick on this one more than we already did. And get an interrogation room ready. I have a feeling we'll need it sooner or later."

* * *

There were, Vittel reflected, a lot of things that could've gone wrong. Their information could've been wrong, and they could've missed Lady Maader completely. Or the entire conference could've been delayed for unspecified reason and they'd traveled all the way to Remano for nothing. Or for example, a storm could've caught them, dissuaded Sinbad from pursuing the negotiation in such a rush.

If either of those things had happened, then maybe, just _maybe_ , things would've turned out a little different.

 _Don't bet on it. You'll lose. Miserably._

Worse, not only was the voice in his head right, it wasn't like he could change what was already done.

"Stop looking at me like that," Sinbad said from across the table, stiffening a yawn. "There was no better way to get the company out of their clutches. You, Ja'far and the girls can head back as soon as they get back, make sure everything's working out."

"Well, yes," because damn it all, Sinbad had a point. But that woman was dangerous, that woman looked even scarier now and she would never agree to that crazy of a bet if she didn't have an ace up her sleeve. But Vittel knew that, and Sinbad knew it even better, so bringing it up at this point of time was entirely pointless. "Just be careful. I think she's going to cheat."

"Well, after how she tried to use us, I'd be a little offended if she didn't," Sinbad said.

And that was that. End of discussion. Vittel could go and slam his head against the wall now, because it had been like this for better part of the night, and he really wished Ja'far would return quickly, he was at least a voice of reason — not that he doubted Sinbad had a plan, no. Not at all. But she'd been just a little too happy about Sinbad's inane proposal, and anyone who could take those with a smile deserved to be feared.

"They're taking too long," he noted, eyes on the first signs of dawn on the horizon.

Sinbad said nothing — and all the better for it, because the next moment, a shadow flashed in front of the window, and Vittel almost screamed. Certainly would've, if Ja'far hadn't landed right in front of them less than a second later.

Girl draped over his shoulder trashed and kicked until he placed her on the ground, only then coming a stop. Wooden box and a dagger Vittel specifically remember picking out dropped to the floor as hoarse sobs filled the room.

"Let me go back! I have to go back, I can fight! Aisha taught me how to fight! I can't leave her! Let me go!"

"What in the world—"

Sinbad froze when a pair of violently trembling trembling arms wrapped around his midsection and Mel buried her tearful face into his shirt. "Please, we can't leave her there, we _can't_! We have to go! We have to get her out of there!"

Eyes moving from the sobbing mess to Ja'far, who hadn't even lifted his head from where he'd stopped.

"What happened, Ja'far? Where…"

Teeth grinding, the former head of the Sham Lash looked like he'd very much earned his reputation. But when he spoke, his voice only trembled slightly. "I'm sorry, Sin. I couldn't get them both."

"Oh, don't tell me. Aisha…"

"They caught her. And if Mel is right… Sin, we absolutely have to get her back. Now."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Was gonna involve Seren and Drakon a lot more... but well, this chapter had a mind of its own. They don't even get to show up, damn it all. On the bright side, more character development? Aaaaaarrrrgh, I was really looking forward to having Seren and Aisha interact on page finally, too. Gonna have to push that for a later date.

* * *

Soft knock sounded against the door, prompting Lord Luces Froder to look up from the documents he was reading. Late afternoon hours left his office bathed in warmth, and as a man of refined tastes, he rather enjoyed the atmosphere. Even if the heat was beginning to get a little overwhelming, and the aching wound under the bandage could use it if he exposed to the sun a little less.

"Come on in," he ordered, tired, but pride would never let him show it. Not with his family name and business on the line.

The past week, however, had been incredibly exhausting. Lady Maader claimed there was nothing that could push her plans astray, but for all her smarts, the woman could be embarrassingly short-sighted. Froder wished he could've pointed it out for her before she wasted money on a lousy tavern, but he owed her at least the benefit of the doubt. So he thought, perhaps, his youngest brother could gather information from the location directly.

Fast forward a few days, his brother and his aide had been found decapitated in the back streets of Napolia, the owner of the tavern that was supposed to be _safe_ had been taken into custody under suspicion for murdering some Napolian noblewoman and a pair of thieves had broken dozens of his slaves out in the middle of the night.

If Lord Froder wasn't absolutely certain that he had Lady Nadia of the Turbulent Seas eating from his hand, this would've had the Tridents written all over it.

But Lady Nadia would not cross him, she would lose too much if she did something dumb like that, which meant somebody within her ragtag bunch of pirates had a rebellious streak and strong enough a following to pull it off against their leader's better judgement. Or alternatively, it wasn't the Tridents at all. Ah, would've been great, if life were so easy. One thief they'd captured not only had the guts and knife skills to back it up, she had the elaborate trident tattooed on her skin. If he didn't _know_ Lady Nadia had enough issues keeping her head afloat, he would've executed the dumb child already. But no, this had the Tridents trademarked style all over it, but the only thing it told him was that there was discord within those crazy pirate ranks. And it wouldn't be the first time.

 _Better make sure half of Remano isn't caught up in it this time._

Or at least, keep his company out of it, even if he had to do it by the skin of his teeth. The Tridents were destructive at best. So if he had no better option, he would sink all of them, in one go. Shame, really, because Nadia showed _promise—_

Anyway. There were more important business to take care of now. He nodded at the attendant that stepped into his office, scroll in one hand, bloodied dagger he'd stolen from the thief in the other. "What do you have for me?"

"Plenty, my lord. But first, messengers have been dispatched, but Lady Nadia claims she cannot come for another day. Demands we keep the girl alive, until she comes to see her personally."

Froder scowled deeply, but nodded. "Understandable, and expected. But she better not hope we keep her unscathed. This matter is obviously connected to my brother's untimely demise. I want heads rolling."

"Of course, my lord," his attendant said. "Speaking of, we have finally confirmed the identity of our prisoner. She used to work as a prostitute in a small tavern in Napolia."

"A prostitute?" Froder cut him off. "You mean to tell me that the bitch who broke into my house and has ties to my brother's demise is no more than a worthless _whore_?"

The attendant tensed, and Froder reined his temper in. This wasn't getting him anywhere. With the Tridents, the girl could've been an eight-year-old slave and it would make no difference. "Keep going," he said.

The attended nodded. "Um, name is Aisha, and she works in Lady Maader's chosen tavern, has been there for about a year. But according to our sources, she took another girl from the tavern and a newly-bought slave, and ran for it. Nobody in there has heard of her since."

And naturally they wouldn't, when she clearly made her way to Remano straight, Froder noted. He snorted. "This isn't the first I hear that name. And there is no doubt about it — the slave is that thieving little brat. I am going to have a _word_ with Lady Maader, I left the girl to her to handle, not some crazy bigot in Napolia, But this Aisha girl is more important now. What do know about her?"

The attendant cleared his throat, conflicted expression on his face. Froder could already feel the headache building.

"We… we know a lot, my lord," the man said, nervously. "Your theory about the discord within the pirates? It may actually be correct."

The attendant glanced at his paper once, before glancing back at his lord. Brought his gaze down almost immediately. Fear seemed to overtake him. Frequent, when the news he brought meant nothing good. But Lord Froder really didn't have the patience for that now.

"May?" he pressed. "Explain."

The attendant swallowed thickly. "There are rumors that, three years ago, a pirate by the name Aisha led a small rebellion. Just around the time the Tridents arrived in the Capital." Sweat began to form at his brow, as Froder gestured for him to continue. "According to my sources, that information is false. But there was indeed a conflict going on between Lady Nadia and another one of the Trident's prominent figures. Conflict of goals, of a kind. A faction within the pirate ranks appeared, one that supported this Aisha girl's intentions over their Lady's. They went so far as to claim Lady Nadia stole the leadership from this girl."

"Ah, yes, I remember that," Froder said. "Several of our fellowmen lost their homes at the time. All because two bitchy girls wouldn't talk to each other." The notion that the power struggles within the pirates fell on the back of two teenage girls would've been far more entertaining, if it didn't fall in line with exactly the things Froder himself had heard. Lady Nadia hadn't been very forthcoming with details when he'd asked, so he had to resort to some less direct sources. And that had been quite a story. Worth any coin he'd paid for it.

"Right, my lord. But this Aisha girl never stepped up as the opposition and the conflict quieted down without ever being resolved. Disappeared from Remano soon afterwards, to reappear in Napolia about a year ago. Stayed in touch with some of her old Trident friends, asked for assistance on occasion. Perhaps it was our bad luck that Lady Maader sent Mel into that tavern. We agreed with her proposition, but we never accounted for the possibility one of the girls there would be such a passionate freedom fighter."

Froder rubbed his aching temples. He really, really needed to have a word with Lady Maader. If he left her a slave to draw information from, that did _not_ mean he approved of any further delegation. Mel had been an iffy problem to handle from the start. Now, the existence of his very company depended on her. And he had a feeling he knew exactly what that wooden box had held.

 _If I'm right, the papers I've been desperately looking for for months had been under my nose from the very beginning._

What was worse, that girl was free, and _gone_ , again, and this time truly in possession of papers that could destroy everything he'd worked so hard to build. If those papers ended up in the wrong hands, not only would he lose both his company and his head, half Reim's economy would _crumble._

"Please, tell me, what do we know? What does any of this have to do with my brother's death?" he demanded. His brother had been an idiot, a spoiled idiot, but he would not get himself recklessly killed. And neither Mel or Aisha seemed to have the kind of capacity needed to behead a man. Which either meant the idiot had gone and gotten himself drunk in a ditch somehow. Or there was somebody else he needed to look out for.

His attendant frowned, bowed his head. "Sincere apologies. We have yet to make a connection, my lord. But we do know that he had changed the trip's objective when he'd learned of Mel's location. Apparently, he managed to track her further after her escape to…" frowning, he shifted through the set of papers, until he found the right one. "Yes, my lord. Your lord and brother tracked Mel down to Sindria company."

"And died for it," Froder concluded. Fixed his shirt, and stood up. "Which means, our thief may know who is responsible for this. And moreover, she knows where our little rat has hidden. Give the order, we're not waiting for Lady Nadia anymore. I want information out of that whore even if that means spilling her guts on the ground, or tearing the nails from her fingers. I don't care how much she suffers. Just make sure she stays alive to wait for her judgement."

"Yes, my lord!"

* * *

 _Cold_ , Mel thought. Like the winters back north, except no amount of huddling under the blanket seemed to help. Wounds on her back burned, and she couldn't even lie down on anything but her side. Couldn't sleep anymore, even if Sinbad and Ja'far had went out of their way cover her window and keep the sunlight out. Nothing helped.

Vittel stepped inside, with a smile and a tray. "I brought you tea, and some herbs. How are you?"

"Fine," Mel ground out through her teeth. Sat up, to finish the tea in a couple gulps. Vittel didn't look all to impressed. Not that she cared. "What are we doing? What is the plan? Why are we going to Ria Venus?"

"For now, we rest—"

"But Aisha—"

"Is going to be safe," he insisted. Mel didn't understand how he could. She'd told them _everything_ , and they still thought it was going to be fine? Fine enough that Sinbad had just picked them up and dropped them on a ship to Ria Venus? It didn't make sense!

"Sin's gladiator match is getting more attention than we thought it would," Vittel said. "I don't like it, but he's right, and that is the best time for us to strike. To do that, Ja'far and I are going to need your help."

"Of course," Mel agreed immediately. "Anything—"

"You're not letting Sin out of your sight," Vittel said.

And Mel blinked up at him. Ran the words through her own tongue, and frowned. "I don't understand. Sinbad, he… he knows how to fight?"

Vittel grinned ruefully. "Well, if this were a contest of strength, I'd agree with you in a heartbeat. But after seeing her face…" he shook his head. "That woman, Maader, she's got something set up, I'm sure. Just in case, we want you to keep an eye on Sin."

Slowly, Mel nodded. "I only met that woman once…" The memory sent shudders down her spine, and she hugged her shoulders. "Her children love her," she managed. "I don't know why, she's scary and she's evil, but the kids like her… and she treated me better than my master, so maybe that's why, but she scares me. But I'll try. Just… get Aisha out of there."

Vittel dropped his hand on top of her head, and ruffled it. "You're one brave girl, you know that?"

Burying her face in the blanket, Mel snorted. If she thought hiding would help keep the tears at bay, she was wrong. "I'm a coward," she said. "I'm always scared of something. And when I'm not, others get hurt because of me. I don't want that to happen again."

"Mel—"

She looked up at him, tearful, and with bloated eyes, but it didn't matter. She swallowed thickly, and nodded. "I'm going to become strong," she promised. "So I don't have to be afraid anymore. So I can help others before they get hurt. Will you help me?"

He stared at her for a long time. Maybe she should've known he would. Aisha said he was more dangerous than he looked, and it wasn't until now that Mel understood how right she was. Any normal person would've told her no. Anyone with a little sanity and a better life would've told her to play with dolls and chase after boys instead. But Vittel look at her, with a little hurt and a little fear, but mostly, he looked at her with understanding.

"It's not going to be easy—"

"Spare me. Aisha already gave me the mindset lecture. And a whole lot of bruises. Think you can top that?"

He snorted, and made an even bigger mess of her already messed up hair. "Yeah, well. Aisha taught you how to defend yourself. I can just teach you how to kill somebody else."

"Doesn't matter. The choice in the end is up to me alone, isn't it?"

Slowly, he nodded, sad. "You seemed to have thought this through. But you're in no condition to do it now. We gotta get the fever down, first."

"I know," Mel whispered.

"Good. Then get some rest. You need it."

* * *

Whoever said she'd be more afraid of the things she could not see had obviously never been imprisoned in a lit cell with torture tools displayed on the wall across them. On one hand, Aisha found the idea is pretty ingenious. A terrified mind could come up with ways those tools could be used that their owners would likely never even imagine. And even if that wasn't the intent behind the display, it certainly wouldn't let their prisoner rest.

She wished she could say such a method would never affect her. If only.

She didn't know how long she'd been there. The dull ache from how her arms stretched above her head would never let her think about it. It hurt more than the whipping, and she had a feeling that even if somebody let her go now, the unnatural position she'd been in for so long would leave her immovable for a while.

 _Chains can't bind me, unless if I let them._

It was a good, strong reminder. An anchor, a mantra. She'd been through this before, equally painful, equally cruel. And she'd made it out anyway, stronger and more courageous than before.

 _Chains can't bind me, unless if I let them._

Spilling her blood wouldn't change that. Hurting her wouldn't change it either. She'd grown up tortured for breathing wrong, by people who only wished to see her suffer. A man who wanted to hurt her for information could never scare her more than a sadistic bastard that had no limit to his cruelty.

 _Chains can't bind me, unless if I let them._

Except she did let them, this time, didn't she? When the choice had come down to her or Mel, she chose Mel. And she would do it again, over and over.

 _I don't want to die._

Maybe it wasn't good, maybe it would never be, but things had finally started looking up for her. She had a roof over her head, not a cabin, not a prison. A home, one that she'd earned with her own hard work, and a little of Marina's assistance. She'd made friends, friends who didn't expect her to fix everything, friends who didn't think living a quiet life was a wrong thing to do.

And she gave it all away. For what? A false sense of righteousness? Clean conscience? Helping an innocent child live a different life than the one she had?

 _I want to kill him._

It had nothing to do with Mel at this point, or Sinbad, or what she thought to be justice. She wanted to kill that man, the same way she wanted to kill her boss. Make him suffer for things he did to her. There was no justice about it, no duty, no responsibility. She just wanted to see the man lying in the pool of his own blood.

It wouldn't make her feel any better, it wouldn't make her any happier. But the world would be better off with another scumbag buried deep under. Anyone who did these things with intent to hurt somebody deserved it. That's what she promised.

That's why the Tridents _existed_. That was why she made them. Nadia wanted to make the world a better place, and Aisha did, too, but she wanted to see those bastards burn in hell first.

 _Chains can't bind me, unless if I let them._

And she wouldn't, ever again. Because she'd burn every last slaver to ash. Starting with Froder himself.

In the distance, a door opened. Guard, by the sound of metal clanking. And somebody quieter, either wearing a robe, or a dress.

 _She's here_.

Aisha wasn't sure how she knew that. It had been years, the footsteps had changed, a lot of things had changed. But when the door of her cell opened, she cracked a single eye open, and she knew what she'd see before she caught sight of it.

Nadia hadn't changed much. Sharp bob-cut, scar on her brow, and chin up in a never ending threat of pain, if you so much as looked at her wrong. If she'd had a flask of wine hanging at her sash, behind the leather belt and the sword, that would've been it. Lady of the Turbulent Seas, looking no different than she had years ago. Even if the lines around her eyes did show.

Aisha took one look at the guard diligently watching the cell door, and snapped her eyes shut.

"Look at me," Nadia ordered. Her voice had barely changed at all, still strong and commanding, impatient in ways Aisha always strived to be. It forced people to listen, and obey without question.

But she didn't. Kept her eyes closed and chin down, out of sheer stubbornness alone.

"Pathetic, that I'd find you in a place like this. I'd think you have the sense to lay low when things don't go your way. Apparently, I was wrong."

Aisha almost laughed in her face. As if things had _ever_ gone her way. From slavery to criminal to prostitution, she only seemed to sinking lower with every next thing she did. At this point, there was no further low she could fall to.

"Where is the slave girl?" Nadia demanded.

" _Slave girl_?" Aisha mimicked, hoarse and scratching at her throat, but she did it nonetheless. "At least address her by her _fucking_ name. Or do you like being somebody else's property so much that you adopted their habits? Disgusting."

A fist zoomed past her cheek and into the wall, echoing throughout the dungeon. Grabbed the fistful of Aisha's hair, and pulled.

"Listen to me," Nadia snarled. "I don't _care_ what shit you pulled yourself into. I'm not going to let _my people_ be accused of being involved in it. You never knew how to pick your battles, and I'm not going to let my men sink with you."

"If _your men_ — no, _if you'd_ done things _you_ promised you would, none of this would've happened!" Aisha snapped. "Maybe I picked the wrong battle, but you picked the wrong side! And when they go down, and trust me, they will — the little girl they're after is smarter than all of us here put together — you'll go down with them."

The nails scratched in her skull, but what she saw in those eyes wasn't anger. Just pain.

"Don't make me do this, Aisha. I owe you my life, I don't want to see you in this place."

"And I owe you my freedom," Aisha choked out. "If you hadn't been there, we would've still been slaves, all of us together. Maybe I left in the end, and maybe things changed, but I _saw_ them. Klaus, Elma, the boys… they're still the same people. _You_ are still the same. Stop bowing your head to a bunch of asshoels with a full pouch."

Nadia's teeth gritted, and she stepped back. Dropped what she held of her hair, and shook her head. "I'm not bowing my head to anyone. I'm protecting my own. Something I would've done for you too, even now, if you hadn't left." She took another step back. "Are you sure, you won't tell me where the girl is? I can't guarantee they'll set you free, but—"

"Safe," Aisha cut her off. "She's safe. And she's going to make you regret siding with this scumbag. And you know how it goes now, feel free to tell your friends they won't get another word out of me. There's nothing they can do that I haven't survived before."

"You're crazy," Nadia choked. "You have more sense than this, Aisha. Don't challenge them."

"… send the others my regards," Aisha whispered. "Wish I could've seen them one more time. Said goodbye properly. And I'm sorry, about what happened, the last time. I never wanted to take the Tridents from you."

"I know," Nadia said. "And I'm sorry, too. There is nothing we can do to help you anymore."

Tiny smile stretched on Aisha's lips. "Don't worry. I wasn't expecting it." Sadistic pleasure rolled over her at the sight of that wince. She didn't want to see Nadia like that, not really… but if only she'd kept her word, none of this would've happened. Maybe not all of it was Nadia's fault, but she had ways to fix it. Same way she had ways to help Aisha, at any time of any day.

And she chose not to.

"I'm done here," Nadia said, looked up at the guard. "This woman has nothing to do with the Tridents. Let Froder do with her whatever he will."

Aisha ignored the shudder that passed along her spine. _I did this… I chose this_.

But as Nadia turned around and left without even a glance, it felt an awful lot like betrayal.

* * *

The crowd that had gathered at the colosseum vastly surpassed what Sinbad expected to see. It went to Maader's credit that she managed to organize a spectacle of this size in less than three days. As expected of a woman willing to steal his company and use it for her own ends, however many they were. He almost wished he'd taken Aisha's advice and took her along for that negotiation. Although he suspected that the results achieved would've been less satisfying, in that case.

Even with his freedom on the line, at least Sindria was safe.

And Aisha's capture had given him a weapon of the kind he hadn't imagined he could've possessed at all. Once Mel explained what the papers they'd stolen contained, he understood exactly why Aisha had been so insistent that they needed to have them.

 _Thank goodness we found Mel first. If some other head of a company got his hands on this, they could've brought the entirety of the Reim's monarchy down._

And Mel knew it.

Oh, not all of it, not by a long shot. Even Sinbad's understanding was sketchy at best. But the Alexius family was the backbone of Reim's monarchy, and Froder likely the richest family in the entirety of Reim. If the word got out that Froder pulled of a fraud that cost the Alexius family half its riches, not only would it bring many of Reim's richest nobles to the brink of financial destruction, it could start a war.

 _Well, a civil war. But if those at the head of Parthevia decided to exact vengeance for the last few years of utter devastation, it could turn much nastier than that._

And all it would take was a single, inconsequential, white lie to do it.

 _Aisha had no idea how right she was. This is bigger than one lousy tavern doing business with the wrong people, bigger than the market breach Mariadel was trying to pull._

Bigger than the bet he made in order to cut his company free of this madness by taking the quickest option possible, no matter the risks.

 _I wonder, if I used that right, could I isolate the influence so I could bring Mariadel down alone?_

Probably, but then everyone would know what sort of a weapon he possessed, and there would be no escaping the repercussions. No. Going public with all the frauds both Froder and Mariadel had been involved with would help nobody right now. Not until Ja'far and Vittel got Aisha out of there, and not until he made sure Aisha didn't reveal this bit of info to her pirate friends. She had every right to be angry, but he would not let her start along the path that could spark a war.

 _Perhaps using it to put Mariadel in line after I win this…_ Well, that idea required more thought. There was no telling how far that woman was willing to go, but it was certainly an option, if she tried to undermine another one of their contracts. For now, he would act like she'd held up to her part of the bargain. And so he would for his.

"I'm sorry," Mel chirped behind him, "this is as far as I can go."

Ah, right. Only gladiators could go past that mark, huh. Sinbad glanced at the anxious girl, and patted her head. "Thanks for keeping me company this long. Here." He dropped his sword and necklace in Mel's waiting hands. "I'll be right back. But until then, I leave them in your care."

She nodded, but her expression didn't change. Ack. He'd never really understand kids. They'd already talked of this half a dozen times, and she still looked like things could go wrong any minute now.

Pinching her cheek, he grinned. "Don't look worried like that, Ja'far and Vittel know what they're doing."

"Yeah," the girl whispered. Stiffened, when another woman stepped by the door.

Face hidden under a shawl, only several dark strands of hair fighting through, she bowed her head. Glanced between Sinbad and Mel, before dark eyes settled on Sinbad at last. "Apologies for intrusion. I trust you are the one they call the leader of the Seven Seas Alliance?"

"Who asks?" Sinbad shot back. Noted the leather underneath the shawl. But no weapon in sight. Given nobody had bothered to take his, it meant she'd done it of her own free will. Interesting.

"I cannot say. But I promise not to take much of your time. May we speak in private? I believe there is something important that you must know."

"So important that it cannot wait for the end of the match?" Sinbad asked breezily. "I wonder what that could be."

"Do not get me wrong, o great Sinbad. Nobody is expecting you to walk out of this arena alive. Least of all myself."

"Well, that's inspiring," Sinbad noted dryly. "I'd expect a pretty lady such as yourself to stand on the side of the underdog. Such a shame."

He caught a hint of a smirk on her face, and inwardly cheered.

"You think very highly of yourself if you consider yourself to be the underdog in this tale, when you are no more than a bug to be crushed in a single stomp. No wonder Aisha has taken such an interest in you, she did always have that awful habit of betting on impossible odds."

Mel's gasp filled the room, young eyes growing wide as saucers. "You know Aisha?"

The woman inclined her head. "I'm afraid so. Though saying that I _know_ her rather understates our relationship. We're more rivals than anything else, really. And you must be Mel. You're one very elusive child, for the most wanted slave in this country. Took all my resources just to get a hint of where you might be, and even then, I didn't know for sure until I walked in here." Raised her hand to placate them, the moment Sinbad stepped between them. "Rest easy. I have no intention of taking that child."

"Just as I have no intention of losing this match," Sinbad said. "But if you know that she is a wanted slave, then you must also know why, and if you do, I cannot let you leave this room secure in the knowledge you won't use my match in the arena to harm her."

"Ah, bold, arrogant and smart," the woman smirked, "I'm liking you more and more. But you're correct. You cannot trust me to leave the girl alone. Same as I cannot trust your henchmen to get that reckless idiot out of the dungeon alive. Guess I'll have to give those boys of yours a benefit of doubt, don't you think?"

"What do you want?" Sinbad demanded. "Who are you?"

"Easy there. I want the same thing you do; Aisha out of that place in one piece, and you to leave this arena alive. But if you walk in there right now, I have a feeling my second wish isn't going to come true. And that would be trouble for both of us. No human goes up against a Fanalis in a gladiator match, and survives."

"A what?"

Behind him, Mel whimpered. Shook her head rapidly. "A Fanalis?" she murmured. "No… no! That's not fair! She _forced_ Sinbad to promise not to use his Vessels, and she's sending a Fanalis?" Turned on him, eyes wide, filled with something oddly resembling fury, wrapped in fear. "You can't! Call it off! You can't walk in there! Any slave here knows what a Fanalis can do, Sinbad, you can't fight him!"

"I knew this would be a trap," Sinbad insisted, "but if I pull back now, I'm endangering my company again. The terms are clear, by participating in the match, my company is free of its debt towards Mariadel—"

"And if you lose, you become a slave," the woman finished. "Cocky of you, to accept such terms. Clearly you don't know how many powerful warriors lost their freedom because of sheer arrogance."

"That's not _it_!" Mel snapped. "I know, you said you'd participate, you promised — but she's sending a Fanalis! That's cheating, even if the paper say it isn't! It's the same thing my master does, _always_ , you can't go there!"

"But he doesn't have a choice, my dear," the woman cut her off. "If he doesn't go, he loses his company by default. And if he chooses to save himself the pain and surrender the match, he becomes a slave. There is no choice for him but to win. Which we're both aware he cannot. What is a man like him to do, in a situation like this?"

Part of him wanted to take Mel by that jacket and shake her, until she told him every last detail about the Fanalis that she knew, but there was no time. He'd intended to come early, but with this, much of that time he'd intended to use for preparation had already slipped through his fingers. And both of them seemed unshakable in their beliefs.

"To begin with, why do you assume I will lose?" he pressed, anyway. Because maybe, if he got either one of them to talk, they'd slip an important detail through, a hint he could use—

"I don't assume," the woman insisted. "I _know_. As does Lady Madaura, and every single man who has heard that a dungeon conqueror is taking part in this without his vessels. Which, I'll have you know, are select few. I'm lucky to be friends with one of them. You were never given a chance, silly boy. I suppose it is fortunate for you that I like you just enough that I want to give you an opportunity."

"Oh? And what opportunity is that?"

The smirk on her face was all teeth. "I'll give you a chance to cheat yourself. Did you know, it is allowed for competitors to bring their pet into the arena, along with their weapon?"

"A pet?" Sinbad echoed. "I don't have a—"

The woman whistled, and almost like a whirlwind, white-furred tiger zoomed past him and squeezed itself between him and Mel, in his efforts to lick the unsuspecting girl's face. Sinbad's eyes widened in recognition.

"This is Mika," the woman explained. "He's the lousiest, scrawniest Maurenian Sabretooth tiger you're ever going to see, probably the biggest coward as well. He'll do anything to get scratched behind the ears."

"You mean, you want me to—"

"I wouldn't bet on a Maurenian tiger against a Fanalis. They're not fast enough, and this one especially isn't trained for combat. What's more, the poison in his teeth isn't strong enough to kill a Fanalis, he is just a baby after all. But, if all you wanted was to knock one out for a while…"

Sinbad swallowed thickly, and looked at the beast now curling at Mel's feet. Had done the same to Aisha, a few days prior, though it felt like that had been years ago.

"What you're telling me to do is rather underhanded," he brought up.

"But well within the rules," the woman reasoned. "Whether you choose to fight with my suggestion in mind, or find your own way, it makes no difference to me. I am merely fulfilling a request. And owning up for my mistakes. To you, I wish the best of luck during the match, dragon of the storm."

Pulling the shawl further to hide her face, she spun on her heel, and began to walk. And on her naked shoulderblade, in a show that could be nothing but intentional, in the color blue as the sea, tattoo of a trident, shifting gently along with her muscles. _Just like…_

He didn't finish that thought. Wouldn't. Because it reminded him of better times, and silky hair flowing through his fingers, and the fact that a girl who did not deserve it now fought a battle with captivity of a different kind than she'd fought before.

He turned towards the tiger, and Mel, with her ashen face, fingers idly scratching behind the beast's ears. She jumped almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, it's okay. I don't like her proposition much, but she may have a point, as much as I hate to admit it."

"Because she's Aisha's friend?"

"I think friend is a stretch of the word," he pointed out dryly. "Think you can manage on your own for the duration of the match? We can't be sure that she wasn't followed here, or that she was as honest as I'd like her to be."

Mel stared at him for a long moment. Placed the necklace he'd given her around her neck, fastened his sword to her hip, and gripped the hilt of her dagger. Large green eyes shone with determination.

"Right," he noted. "Be careful out there."

"Don't lose, Sinbad."

The tiger rose, circling around him. He recalled how Aisha had done it, and did the same. Glanced at the beady yellow eyes with a grin on his face. And smiled. "Got it."

* * *

Outside the arena, deep in the shade of the nearby trees, Nadia pulled the shawl off her face, folded it neatly, and shoved it in her brother's face. Accepted the sword he handed her back, placing it back onto the leather belt where it belonged.

"Easy there, sis, you're gonna rip it off, and then who's gonna have to fix it?"

Bristling, Nadia glanced back towards the arena, and the cheers erupting out of it. "It doesn't matter at this point, does it? If he loses that match, I lose my head, and probably more. I hope you're happy, you ungrateful bastard."

Scratching through the mane that was his hair, Nadir glanced at her, with complete lack of any real gratitude. "Yeah, well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'd hate to decapitate another noble. That shit gets nasty."

"If your idiot ass hadn't done that, we wouldn't be in this mess," Nadia growled.

"Oi, oi, easy there, they were threatening my wife—"

"Aisha had _nothing_ to do with this shit until your idiocy compelled you to kill that noble, you _ass_. They're now blaming her for what you did, and if Sinbad's little ninjas don't get her out of there, what they do to her is going to be _your fault_ ," she snapped. "And for the last time, she's not your goddamn wife. Get over it."

"Hey!" he protested. " _She_ kissed _me_! That makes her mine whether you like it or not!"

Nadia glared up at him. Took a deep breath, before shaking her head. This wasn't worth it, she just knew it. "Sometimes I honestly ask myself how you can be such a goddamned idiot."

"And I wonder how you can be such an awful _liar_. 'There is nothing we can do to help you anymore', my _ass_. The Tridents protect their own, _every_ goddamned fool on the street knows that. Aisha's probably expecting you to break right back in there and get her out of there by sunrise. And your bitch ass is sneaking here, helping her little boyfriend. What a lousy pirate you are."

Nadia crossed her arms, ignored her body's compelling need to choke the living soul out of her brother, and leaned against the tree. Few years back, she wouldn't even think to doubt that. But now, expression on Aisha's face back in that dungeon… _A lot happened. She must be as sick of all the misunderstandings as I am…_

But Aisha always had more guts than sense. And it had been _years_.

 _Last time I saw her, I said a lot of things I shouldn't have._

"What do you think, Nadir, should I apologize? About what happened? I told her many things I didn't mean, years ago."

"Huh?" her brother said, eloquently. "But nobody died, right?"

"No. Nobody died."

"Then why should you? Aisha's a clever cookie. She knows you'd never hate her over dumb shit. I can't believe you're even asking me this."

"Why I'm asking, indeed…"


	8. Chapter 8

One day, I swear, I'll go back and fix all the typos and grammar mistakes I made, in this chapter and all the others. Today is not that day.

But okay. One more chapter left, to wrap this whole thing up. See you next week!

* * *

The torchlight danced on the walls, flickering occasionally. Fire reflected off the arrays of tools and weapons displayed across the room, many visibly worn from use. Sounds of Aisha's ragged breathing filled the chamber, irregular, and growing faster, the moment she caught sight of the blade fast approaching. Gasped when rough fingers pressed into her face and jerked her head up, forcing her to look up at the face of the man who had been inflicting disproportionate amounts of pain on her person for better time of the day.

Tip of the blade pressed against her bruised cheek, reminder of the broken bone underneath the bruised skin, but cold enough to be almost soothing. Dark eyes glimmered under the bushy eyebrows, cold and merciless, the wrinkles on his face that much deeper in the flickering light.

"Still silent, are you?"

Hot breath hit her nose, reeking of rot and onions. His eyes desperately seemed to be searching for something, maybe a crack in her composure, hole in her defences, and part of Aisha knew it. This time, he'd find it. She could still taste the salt on her tongue from all the tears, still feel the burning on her face from where they'd travelled along the badly damaged skin. But she pressed her lips together, stubbornly. And stared right back.

He dropped her chin and it fell down, for a moment of utter bliss, before a knee struck her middle again, drawing a faint scream and more tears. Her body swung back and forth from the force, cold metal tearing into the skin of her wrists, and any attempt to just breathe left her struggling with violent coughing that burned the back of her throat.

She didn't have the time to steady her breathing before it happened again.

The crunching sound ricocheting of the stone must've been one of her ribs breaking. The ache was dull enough that she couldn't tell for sure.

Blood tickled along her arm from where the metal finally broke through the thin layers of her skin, slow and tender. The pain in her dislocated shoulders had weakened over time. Maybe she'd gotten used to it, maybe the amount of torture the rest of her body had been forced to withstand had just pushed it aside, in favor of dealing with the more pressing issues. The kick had opened the neat set of slices along her side, just under the ribs, again, but it tickled more than it hurt, at this point. Compared to the pain of two of her fingernails being ripped off, it was almost tolerable.

 _Almost._

An idle part of her mind, one that had somehow escaped the delirious state the rest of her was in, vaguely wondered how many bruises she had now. The last count had stopped at twelve, and the beating since had only gotten worse.

"I'm impressed," the man said conversationally, aged eyes observing the blade in his possession with more admiration than most had for their emperor. _Her_ blade. "Most would've spoken by now, you know? Swallowed whatever that inner strength that pushed them around, and spilled everything. If the fear didn't drive them nuts, the pain certainly would. I daresay I put quite the effort into forcing you to speak, and yet you still…"

Dark eyes focused on her again, burning with hatred. Then towards the wall opposite her, and Aisha followed his gaze, freezing when she caught sight of a tool that looked more like claws than an actual weapon, hanging upon a large nail, a little apart from all the other weapons on the display. Aisha had spent the better part of her time here idly wondering what it could possibly be used for. The claws were too far apart to strip down the skin of her arms, too bulky to be used on her legs. Some of the ideas she had eventually come up with left her mindlessly shivering, while others almost had her begging for death.

 _Impractical_ , the rational part of her mind, one that saw the tool and saw it as a murder weapon, insisted. _Not an interrogation tool. They won't use it._ It was too large, but the edges didn't look sharp enough. Whatever it got used for, it would be _painful_ , but it wouldn't let its target survive.

She had to believe that. Before her mind came up with ways it could be used without death as consequence, and hell knew she'd blurted out more than enough stupid things to last her a lifetime. Because at one point, the only way she could keep herself from telling them _everything_ had been by talking about everything other than the things they had specifically asked for, and sometime during the days of living and reliving some of her worst nightmares, talking about them had become the only way she could keep her sanity.

But Froder's eyes lingered on the tool a moment too long, and perhaps it was a trick, perhaps not, but she saw the flicker of satisfaction at the fear that no doubt showed on her face.

"Ah, right. I forgot you went through most of this before. One would think you'd be more afraid, but oh well. I take it you haven't seen that one before, have you? A fellow trader brought it all the way from the east. Nasty thing, let me tell you. Known under an equally nasty name. Would you like to hear it?"

 _No_. Just looking at it had given her enough to fear for a lifetime, enough to make her involuntarily shiver for eternity. Most weapons earned the names on some of their properties or reasons for use and the _last_ she wanted was to give the devil hidden in the dark a name to shadow her for eternity.

Calloused hand came to rest on her undamaged cheek, kind and gentle, and she leaned into the touch instinctively, desperate for the warmth that came with it. Closed her eyes, just for a moment, to escape the pain just for a moment before it all came crashing down again. Involuntarily shivered again, when the weakest of breeze met her naked form.

"It really pains me to do this, you know?" he said softly. "I'm really fond of your crew's style. There's few people now willing to put everything on the line just to sow discord within the established circles. It would be cruel, too cruel, if it all had to come to an end like this."

More tears burned along her face, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from nodding along, or worse, verbally acknowledge him. She knew what he was doing, she knew it was only temporary, and the kindness would mean nothing once the beating started again. He'd already established the routine for what it was, and they were both aware that every person had a breaking point. Aisha just didn't want him to know how close she'd come to hers.

"Are you cold? Hungry?" Without waiting, his head snapped towards his attendants. "Bring a cloak. And you!" The dark haired youth, hiding his face under a helmet, snapped to attention. "Put her down. We've left her like this for long enough."

Visibly relieved, the boy marched to the end of the room unwrapping the chain until it was no longer just her toes touching the ground. Dull ache in her shoulders turned into searing torture as her arms stopped hanging over her head, drawing an ear-splitting scream that tore at her throat. Knees gave out, strong arms grabbing at her painful sides the only reason she didn't immediately sprawl over the ground.

Froder dragged her to the other end of the dungeon, placing her to sit down in the corner, away from the damp floor where she'd been positioned before. Gently helped her bend her arms at the elbow in spite of the pain the motion brought with it. Then he gently brushed the strands of hair sticking to her toothy smile engraved itself in her memories, like he'd found an especially interesting toy to play with and just couldn't wait to see how much longer it would last.

"Better, now? I can't imagine that to be comfortable. I'd offer to bring you some warm tea, but I'm afraid I can't do that."

"No?"

The tiny whimper escaped before she could consider what it would mean, but the prospect of _warm_ and _tea_ was almost too much for her to take.

"I'm afraid so. You have a long way to go—" the metal screeched against the stone floor, and Aisha saw him shift, saw the expression on his face brighten. Turned back to her, expression gentler than a moment ago. "Ah, the cloak is here. I'm willing to let you have it, if you answer a question." Raised his arms to placate her, before she could violently shake her head. "Easy there — this is just curiosity. I'm trying to work something out here, and perhaps you would be willing to assist me. You see, I have never personally been to the west side before. Would you tell me how long the journey from here to Napolia would last?"

 _It's a trick… it has to be a trick_. But everything hurt, and she was cold, oh so cold — maybe he could ask that anyone on the street, but he'd asked her, and if she could just get a little warmer. Teeth tore into the side of her cheek, before she opened her mouth hesitantly.

"It… depends," she murmured. "Caravans need a few days. Less, if you hurry. Even less if you travel during night."

"Ah, but isn't that dangerous? Traveling at night? There are all sorts of beasts in the wilderness, human and animal alike."

Oh, he had no idea how true that was. Between the desert bandits and wild boars, stubbornly chasing her for _hours_ , she had sworn never to travel all alone, ever again. Caravans knew what safe routes were there, and if one happened to stumble upon those explicitly travelling the same route all the time, they'd know shortcuts as well. But sometimes you couldn't worry about that, and you had to worry about the speed instead and then—

"Sinbad was there," Aisha whispered, like it explained everything. Maybe it did. Fate or chance, things only ever blew up in her face when he wasn't around. "He makes things safe." Because he did, he always did. Whenever he was there, she didn't need worry about things not going her way. With him there, she knew it would be okay.

Sobs rocked her shoulders and she curled tighter, into a little ball in the corner that didn't really want to do anything other than cry. Sinbad always cared, he always did his best, he wanted _everyone_ to be safe — and she'd dragged him into this mess.

Perhaps somewhere deep inside, she knew this would blow up in her face. Hard not to, when she went against all the warnings and did things countless of others had died for. No fool goes against the system and lives to tell the tale, she'd known that even back as a dumb kid, only recently stripped of every right and belonging she'd ever possessed. But that was fine. If she died fighting a battle nobody cared to start, even that would be better than the sickening misery made of chains. Her father didn't raise her to be a follower, he raised her to be a fighter. Somebody who could, at the end of the day, put her weapon aside with a peace of mind that the only ones who suffered were those who _deserved it._

 _I deserve it._

Because after everything, even after _everything_ she'd lived, she was weak. Useless. Because whatever she did, it only caused more misery wherever she went, and no amount of struggling had ever truly _helped_.

And now Sinbad… now she'd betrayed him, too.

Froder looked at her with a speck of interest, cold, and full of promise. Promise that her careless words would lead him straight to the last person she'd ever want him to find.

"Quite a capable young man, isn't he?" Froder noted, icy.

Sobs rocked her body as a rough piece of clothing fell over her naked body. Aisha wrapped herself in it to the best of her ability, desperately, but not even a thick cloak bringing little warmth to her shivering body helped ease the chill that had settled around her heart.

 _I'm sorry! I'm sorry!_

But they were already shuffling out, whether on command or not, the difference no longer mattered. If only she could move, wrap that chain around his neck — they would never be fast enough to stop her, throwing herself right or left, he'd never be able to escape. But she couldn't keep the cloak hanging around her, let alone do anything _more_ than that.

"No… _no_ …"

Frodor was the last to leave, slamming the door firmly shut behind him.

Monstrous, hoarse scream tore from her throat, shredding her mind and tearing her heart.

" _NO_!"

But her only answer was silence.

* * *

"You… you heard that, didn't you?"

Vittel's voice was barely above a whisper, but beside him, Ja'far nodded anyway. Gripped his blades with entirely too much strength for such a small body.

"We're not letting them walk out of here," he said. "Not even in pieces."

Vittel hummed in agreement, and squinted. Just about time, anyway. They would not be happy, to find what waiting on them just behind the corner. No intelligent person ever made enemies of former Sham Lash assassins. And these guys were going to learn it the hard way.

"Did Sin mention anything about the slaves we knocked out along the way?" he asked idly, as they waited on the signal.

"Leave it to Aisha," Ja'far quoted.

Ah. Of course he would. "From the sound of it, I don't think she's in the sort of condition that would let her do much."

It earned him an icy glare. Ah. Ja'far was still upset that he'd gone screwed it all up by accepting Mariadel's proposal. Hopefully it'd pass him quickly, the stink-eye was beginning to become unsettling. "You know what needs to be done for the mission to go smoothly," the former head of Sham Lash said smoothly.

And, Vittel reflected, that he did. But Ja'far never specifically told him he needed to do it, huh. And even back in Sham Lash, Ja'far's orders had never been anything but specific.

Suppressing an eager grin, Vittel nodded.

"Any moment now," he noted.

And as if on cue, startled screams echoed through the darkened tunnels. Got put under control after a few moments, after somebody started shouting orders, but by that point, it was too late.

Ja'far was gone.

And Vittel's path to one particular cell was wide open.

In hindsight, there were a lot of things he could've found when he went inside. Mel had given them enough warning what could be waiting inside, but past experience reminded him that things could be much, _much_ worse than the scenarios she'd painted. But a bruised, sobbing mess huddling in the corner, under a dirty cloak riddled in holes, he had not been ready to find. It was, arguably, better than what he feared he might find.

But _far_ worse than what he'd hoped.

"Aisha?" he tried, quietly, but it was telling that the girl didn't even notice him enter. Hollow sobs echoed through the room, and she didn't even look up when he approached. "Shh, Aisha… it's me, Vittel…"

She froze then, head tilting slightly for the bloodshot eyes to look at him. Hacked a cough. "Vi—Vittel?"

That was his sign. He knelt down, following the chain, but tried not to remove the cloak, not when she clutched it closer, face filled with fear. "Easy — I just want to get the chains off. Don't worry, it'll be quick."

Gingerly, she exposed the still bleeding wrists, with a pained grimace on her face. One glance confirmed what he could've only speculated before. Gently, he touched the shoulder and her wince confirmed it.

"Dislocated?" she guessed.

"Yeah. We can fix that. But it's going to hurt."

She nodded. "I — I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-!"

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he shot back, but as he sunk the thin tool into the lock and it wouldn't give in, not right away, he was beginning to suspect this might be more difficult than he'd expected. Aisha kept whimpering and apologizing, and the stupid lock just wouldn't give in — they were working on a time limit, here, and he was actively breaching it.

Finally, the metal cracked open, and Vittel gave a quick breath of relief. "Any others?"

"N-no, but—"

"Hold on tight. I can't promise this is going to be smooth."

She practically screamed when he lifted her up, just another sign they'd need to inspect her for further injuries, and properly. But later, when they were safely out of this place—

But Ja'far slipped in a moment later, and that could only be bad news.

"They were ready," he hissed. "Not specifically waiting for us, but our way out is closed. We're gonna have to fight through. And Sin doesn't have his Vessels back, damn it."

"How many?" Vittel demanded.

"Half a dozen. Five armed."

"Manageable, but we're going to need to be fast." And, from the heavy breathing of the girl hanging over his shoulder, very careful, too.

"I'll clear the path," Ja'far said. "It'll take time, but don't get out until I give the signal."

Vittel nodded — and as he did, watched his fellow assassin quite literally disappear in the shadows. He picked up the torch with his free hand and picked one of the many weapons resting on the wall. Then stalked out of the room, firmly shutting the door behind them, before placing Aisha back on the ground.

"Think you can walk on your own?" But he had a feeling that if she could've, she already would've. The weak shake of head told him what he needed to know, anyway. "Right. Then, wait here—"

"I'll try," she murmured. "It hurts, but I'll try. But, my arms…"

Vittel glanced left and right — and scowled. He could see now what Ja'far meant with their way out being closed. It was on quite a distance, but he could see the lock. And the poor bastard who Ja'far must've gotten his hands on in rage. _But no key… which means nobody will be coming from there._

 _So I just have one side I need to watch out for._

Good.

"Alright," he said. "I think we can fix that right now. I can't tell for sure, but it seems it's only the left shoulder that's popped out. Try to move your arms a little, see how it feels…" From the grimace, it couldn't possibly feel good. But soon, he saw her nodding, though very slowly.

"Left hurts more," she managed.

"Figures. I'll fix that. You'll be able to move it — but I'd advise you not to. It'll hurt more, but it will recover faster." _I hope_. "Got anything to bite on?"

She huddled further into the cloak, but shook her head. "Do it."

"But—"

"Do _it_."

Stubborn, damn it all. But they didn't have the time for that argument now. One glance over his shoulder, to confirm there was nobody coming, before he moved the cloak out of the way. Had what to see, too. From blood to badly bruised skin, it was no wonder she'd been hell bent on fixing it right away. She lied down with no complaint, turning her head away in a pained grimace.

"On the count of three. One… two…"

Guttural scream tore from her throat as he pushed the bone back in place. Prayed it worked, because the moment her screams quieted down into pained groans, he heard the footsteps, coming.

"Stay here, I'll take care of this—"

But as soon as he said it, the blade came swinging towards him. Moved out of the way, eyes glued to the dagger in hand. Familiar, ragged blade, with damaged edges, some rust and now drying blood — and a jewel at the hilt. A red jewel, one he would've recognized even if Aisha hadn't been showing it off back in the caravan.

There was a bruise on the man's forehead, so one of Ja'far's targets that had somehow escaped the blissful unconsciousness. Something Vittel needed to take care of, immediately, before their cover got otherwise blown.

 _He's slow… trained, but not an expert. I won't need a weapon for this._

The second swing that came, Vittel caught, before the edge could get anywhere near him. Twisted the wrist, until the blade clattered as it fell to the ground, and landed a hit right where the previous injury was. At worst, it would make him dizzy, and much less likely to follow, and at best—

The man dropped to ground, knees first, before the weight had him falling on his back. Still conscious, damn it, but struggling to move. Vittel sighed. Took what he could get, they had no time to waste—

But Aisha's trembling fingers closed around the hilt, lifting it off, as she struggled to at least make it up on her knees.

"Wait, what are you…"

It became obvious in less than a second, when she pressed that blade right at the man's neck.

"Aisha, wait—"

"It's his _fault_ ," she choked. " _His_. For Mel. For _everything_. I have to — _I will_ —"

"I… I understand. But one person, no matter how despicable… killing just that one won't fix it. Won't make it any better…"

"It _will_ ," she rasped. "Everyone need a leader… a king… I kill _him_ , and they fall apart. Every time."

"Every time…?" No, wrong question to ask. Shaken, delirious, barely conscious, Vittel doubted she had any idea what she was suggesting. Or, if she did, then—

Why did it look like she was asking for approval?

"Mel already told us why you came here, all of it," Vittel said, softly. "The moment we get you out of here, he's going to get what's coming for him. … but, I'm an assassin. Used to be, anyway. If you really think that's the way it should be, I won't stop you…"

Something glinted in her eyes in that moment, ice or fire, all the same. For a brief second, he'd thought he'd heard a barely audible 'thanks'. Then she sunk the blade deep into the man's neck.

* * *

As much as Sinbad hated to admit it, that woman had been _right_. On multiple accounts.

The first of which had almost cost him his head.

Past heroics aside, first thirty seconds of his gladiator match had taught him few incredibly vital things for his further survival. Most of this newly acquired knowledge he intended to fully apply to his life habits as soon as he got out of the arena. _If_ he got out.

Right now, his miniature opponent didn't really look like he was intending to _let_ him. And for a bratty half-pint carrying a sword twice his size, he was awfully skilled with it. Enough to leave knee-deep dents in the ground, much to the audience elation.

So. Most of his updated knowledge on the Fanalis could be summed up in three very shocking, _very_ crucial bullet points.

First, the kid was adorable. Really. For a 'beast that sent over a hundred gladiator to their graves', the kid looked more than huggable for the sheer dose of _cute_ he possessed. He'd be willing to bet most the girls back in the company would spend days spoiling him for the eyes alone.

Second, he was a slave. If the heavy chains on his feet hadn't been enough proof, the marks around his neck certainly were. A fact he was sure would've driven Aisha up the wall if she were to see it. Though given the exposure, Sinbad had plenty of reason to believe Mel wouldn't be taking it much better, either. He had yet to find her face in the audience, but she would not be cheering, that was for sure.

And last, the kid was _deadly_. And that would be putting it mildly.

That swing of sword had missed his head, barely, but just thinking how much strength it'd take to swing that massive a sword like _that_ had Sinbad threading back to a safe distance.

Probably worst blow to his pride was that the Fanalis strength wasn't the only thing that Trident woman had been right about, not by a long shot. Though at least now he had a feeling he knew exactly who she'd been. And he really should've figured it out earlier. Only a pirate leader would be insane enough to let him walk into the arena with cryptic warnings and even more confusing instructions.

But the thing was, nobody had in fact tried to stop him from taking the tiger into the arena. Hadn't even looked at him weird, for that matter, and Sinbad had been expecting a lot of staring. Ironically, one of the men standing guard just wrote something on a scroll and let them through and Sinbad had been rather surprised nobody had even bothered to _ask_ about the potential deadly poison. Maurenian tigers weren't _that_ common. But rumors spread. And maybe SInbad lacked the education in that area, but even he knew you were not to mess with a Maurenian tiger if you wanted to get out intact.

It had become a sort of a non-issue fast enough. Because, and the crazy woman had _nailed_ that one, scary, oversized tiger with teeth as long as Sinbad's hands, was worse than a terrified kitten.

The Fanalis hadn't even taken the stage before the tiger had tried to run back exactly where he'd come from, but of course the gate had been closed. Now he was curling in by the gate, trying to look smaller than an oversized bed cushion, and failing spectacularly.

 _Seriously? And_ this _is a deadly monster?_

Sinbad dived out of the way of another swing, and winced as the sword neatly sliced through stone wall. Spacing off seemed to be a dangerous hazard in this place, and he didn't want to get hit. Oh he definitely did _not_ want to get hit by that sword, thank you very much.

 _Think, think. Mel must've said something else that was useful, she'd been complaining a lot back there—_

Except he hadn't been listening, not really, and now he wanted to bang his head against the wall because of it. Logic said, he was the dungeon conqueror, and the thing trying to kill him was no more than a child. He should've been able to win this without breaking a sweat. But bad feelings were bad feelings for a reason, and Mel and the mystery woman hadn't been trying to help him get past it, either. If anything, they made it _worse_.

 _Long swords are good for scaring opponents right from the start,_ Sinbad reasoned. Get past it, he should be more than able to land a solid hit. So he slipped past the next swing, and swept forward — he could see the surprise in the boy's face —

See it disappear, the moment the boy released the sword.

 _Oh, shit!_

The fist almost caught him on the side. _Almost_. He was _certain_ that the boy had missed, by a wide margin, too — but it still felt like the air had been punched out of him. And then he saw the kick coming. Held out his sword, teeth clenched in muted apology — and watched the metal bend around the leg, leaving only a thin red trail of blood along the muscle. And Sinbad flew together with the sword half across the arena, before his rolling in the dust came to a stop.

"Well, that was…" _easy_ , he said, coughed out a cloud of dirt. Almost. Watched the boy inspect the cut with mild interest, butt seemingly none the worse for the wear. And he'd gotten lucky too, to hit the spot just above the place where the metal armor stopped. But that metal ball had come dangerously close to crushing all his teeth out. Sinbad shuddered. _I'm sorry, I wasn't planning to use that trick, I only coated one side in poison…_

Because, really. It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but he'd taken that warning to heart. And having one last ace in the sleeve could never hurt, all the better if he never had to use it…

But it didn't really look like it worked. Only earned him the attention of one very, _very_ annoyed boy with inhuman strength. Whoops.

Sinbad couldn't help but smile, though. Trap? Check. Dangerous, deadly trap? Check. Exhilarating and exciting trap? Triple check. "You're pretty amazing for a child, huh. I'm looking forward to seeing what you'll be able to do when you grow up."

Crazy as it may be, Sinbad really wanted to do this again at some point. Preferably with lower stakes involved and less eyes watching. He could already hear Ja'far groaning.

Snapped back to attention, as the Fanalis boy dropped into a stance, sword all but forgotten, but fire burned in his eyes. The kid looked like he wanted to show exactly what he was made of, and do it now. Sinbad tensed.

"Uh, wait… are you really sure you want to do that, I don't want you to get—"

The boy kicked off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake, and it was all Sinbad could do just to get out of his way.

"— hurt. Right. No stopping. Got it."

He'd almost hoped that the boy would end up crashing into a wall. All that strength _had_ to be difficult to control. But no such luck. The boy, Masrur, rushed in for another attempted hit, another one that would've landed, if Sinbad had been any less focused on dodging. And to hell with it, fights weren't meant to be just dodging, this wasn't fair!

 _But wait, something is wrong. He seems… slower._

That gave him an idea. A difficult and complicated one, of course. But one hit was all it would take. Sinbad hoped.

He dropped his mangled sword, and raised his arms in a show of theatrics. Pretended to chant under his breath, while the boy gathered his bearings. Glanced up towards the special seat at the highest level of the arena, and smirked. He would not give that woman an opportunity to use another elaborate set-up against him. Narrowed his eyes at the boy. _Left or right? No, he doesn't seem like the type to pull tricks—_

Straight above. Shit.

Sinbad dived out of the way, theatrics cut short. Used the moment of pause to slip through the Fanalis' guard — and winced, as the tiny fist narrowly missed his face, but the force that came along with it split the skin on his cheek anyway. Sinbad caught the wrist, though and noted the wobbly feet. _So the poison is working. Good._

"Sorry, kid. But I need you to go down. And _stay there_."

He brought his hand down with all the strength he had. Rurumu would've been proud. Her chop had always been practically impossible to reproduce, but Sinbad had a vague feeling that maybe, this time, he'd come close.

The boy wobbled on his feet. But the poison was taking effect, and maybe that chop hadn't knocked him out, but he'd _felt it_ , unlike pretty much anything else Sinbad had tried (and failed) to throw at him. Good thing, too, because Sinbad felt like that one chop had shattered the bones in his hand. Ow.

Masrur fell to his knees. Scowled, and tried to stand back up. Would've fallen right back down, if Sinbad hadn't caught him.

"Easy. I'm sure you're going to feel strange for a while, but you'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

He laid the boy down on the ground, waited for the judge to announce his victory. But as the cheers filled the arena, none of the joy he'd been expecting to feel at his victory ever came. How could it, when the sneaky tactics he'd relied on to win now put the boy at risk. Sure, the mystery woman claimed the poison couldn't truly harm a Fanalis… but this was still a child. He didn't want to find out if she was wrong the hard way.

Now that he had the time to look, he found Mel in the crowd, at the front, looking about as grim as he felt. She caught his eyes, her own glistening with an emotion, one that might as well had said 'don't worry, I have a plan', before disappearing in the crowd. And then Sinbad turned to the other side, but the section where he'd spotted Maader was deserted.

Sinbad clenched his fists, tight.

Hopefully, whatever plan Mel had in mind, it would give him a chance to get that boy out of that woman's clutches. But, worst come to worst, he could always grab the pair of kids and fly off. He'd love to see Maader top that, HA! There were no contracts to stop him anymore.

* * *

Masrur opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar room, lying on unfamiliar sheets and to an unfamiliar pair of eyes blinking down at him. Reddened cheeks, button nose and high cheekbones. Only a few years older than him, the girl didn't look like anyone he had met before, but her scent filled the room, mixed with two others — familiar, both. One was the scent from that gladiator in the arena. And the other—

Masrur shot straight up, and the girl jumped back. "I'm sorry! I just — I wasn't sure if you were awake…"

He blinked at her, and she blinked back.

Masrur then glanced down, at his hands, and feet. But there were no chains anywhere on his person. And the cut he'd received back at the arena was neatly bandaged. Through the window, he could see the sun was now much lower than it had been back in the arena. He focused back on the unfamiliar girl. Almost like she could read the question from his mind, she smiled.

"It's fine, we took you to the infirmary. You've only been out a few hours. Are you feeling ill? Nauseous?"

Masrur thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.

"Right. Okay. Listen to me careful. Sinbad is right outside — wait, do you know who Sinbad is?"

Masrur shook his head, and tilted his head as the girl winced.

"Right. He's… well, he's the person who beat you in the match. But… he's a really nice guy, okay? We don't wish you any harm, in fact, it's the opposite. You're one of Maader's slaves, right?"

Silly, that she'd ask a question she already seemed to know the answer to. But he humored her, and nodded. Though his slavery only went as far as to obeying orders. It seemed to satisfy her, though. Even if she didn't look particularly happy with his answer, if the way she was chewing at that lip was anything to go by.

"My name is Mel," she said, after a long pause. "I… I was one of her slaves too. For a really short time, though, they shipped me out really fast. But that's a long story… The thing is, I'm free now. Completely free. See?" She held out her hand, thin, but with only fading marks left around her wrist. "Do you want to be free?"

"I—" Masrur started, but froze. Now that he was paying attention, there were sounds coming from behind the door, loud, almost like somebody arguing. Mel followed his gaze to the door.

"Yeah," she said. "Um, Sinbad is out there. I think he's arguing with Maader now, about taking you with us, but his argument is really shaky… they never agreed on the terms of what happens if he wins... " she turned back to him, determined. "But I can change that. Sinbad, he… well, he wants you to come with us. And so do I. But I was a slave, and I know how it feels, and I don't — we're not going to take you by force. If, by chance, you want to stay where you are, then that's okay. I can imagine that you wouldn't want to go anywhere with Sinbad now, and I don't blame you, what he did was really mean, but he had no choice—"

"Am I going to be free?" Masrur cut her off.

The girl drew back, startled. Took a moment to regain composure, and nodded. "Yes. That I promise you. We will take you with us, but if you decide you want to go elsewhere, that's fine too. But if you want to come with us, I need you to tell me now. Sinbad is trying to argue, but he doesn't have much to work with — and I can fix that. It's going to be sneaky and it's going to be mean, too, but I can do it, and I will do it. But only if you're sure you want to come."

Cheeks burning, she bit her lip, eyes demanding answers. Masrur stared at her for a long moment — back down at the faded marks on her skin, and then back to her face.

"I am a Fanalis," he said. "I will obey my orders, and—"

"No!" Mel shook her head rapidly. "This isn't about orders! I'm not ordering you, I don't _want_ to order to you anything! It's hard, I know it's hard, but I want you to think. Do you want to get those chains off, forever?"

She gestured towards the corner, and he spotted a familiar pair of metal chains in the corner, carelessly tucked under a dirty rag.

"Maader doesn't know I did that," she said. "But I don't care. I'm not afraid. Do you want to let her put them back on?"

"... no."

The strange girl smiled. "Do you trust me?"

Masrur watched her for a long moment, watched the blood rush to her face and the skin on her cheeks burn bright red.

"Sorry," she said, but didn't look away. "I guess it is too early for that. Let me show you."

From the inside of her dress, she pulled a stack of messily folded papers and shuffled through them. "Come on, it's here, it's gotta be here… ah!" She pulled one in particular, pushing all the others back in her dress. Masrur blinked at the unfamiliar letters, but she clearly didn't intend for him to read it, because she dragged it right back.

"This," she announced, "is going to make you free. Let's go."

Still a little wobbly on his feet, Masrur followed.

* * *

"That is preposterous!" Lady Maader of the Mariadel Company raged, face heated. "We agreed on no such thing! Masrur is one of my children, I am _not_ giving him to you."

And Sinbad sighed, but kept his arms crossed and defiant glare firmly locked on his face. The poor clerk caught between them glanced from one to another, then back, and then finally at the scroll in his hand. "B-but, Lady Maader, the regulations—"

"Our deal was _clear_ ," the woman snapped. "As soon as Sinbad agrees to the match, the debts of his company are forgiven. But in case he loses, he becomes my slave! And in case he _cheats_ , both he and his company become _mine_!"

"—b-but, my Lady, there is no evidence Sinbad cheated—"

"Fanalis _do NOT_ fall unconscious just like that!" Maader screeched. "I want an investigation! Obviously, there had been cheating involved, he either used his Vessels, or—"

"I did no such thing," Sinbad cut her off. "My Vessels never came close to the field, your own people made sure of it."

"Then that _tiger_ , useless as it was, must've done _something_ , or magic—"

Sinbad's gaze flickered to the creature in question, lazily swinging his tail back and forth, paying the ongoing argument no attention whatsoever.

"As far as I'm aware, it is perfectly within the rules to take your pet along. Not that it did me much good," he noted dryly. Glanced at the clerk in mild amusement.

The man wiped the sweat dripping from underneath his metal helmet, before it could get lost in his bushy brows. "It is perfectly within the regulations, yes, unless if otherwise stated in the terms of the match itself — and there is no such thing arranged in the contract you have given me…"

Sinbad nodded smugly.

"... but all the same, no additional compensation had been determined for the victor," the man ground out. The rules of the arena are absolute, and while the victor has the right to demand for an award, it _cannot_ be another person—"

"But Masrur isn't a person, is he?" Sinbad pointed out. "He is a slave. A possession. Lady Maader's possession. Which, I reckon, makes him a viable form of compensation, doesn't it?"

"Well, yes—"

" _Unacceptable!_ " Maader roared. "I agree to no such thing, there must be something within the regulations about this too! I _refuse_ to hand Masrur over to you. And you!" She turned on the clerk, almost like a vengeful monster herself. Even Sinbad winced. Poor guy looked ready to jump right out of his skin. "That scroll you're holding is nothing but the list of _most common_ rules, I want the full regulation document here, right _this_ second!"

"B-but, Lady—"

"It's okay," Mel's voice cut through the hall. She walked through the hall, standing as tall as somebody of her stature could, her chin sticking out and her eyes burning with determination. Sinbad took note of the paper crumpled in her hand, and Masrur slowly trotting behind her. She came to a stop right next to the clerk, with a fixed smile that few would figure out was a shadow of what she could truly do.

She was afraid, Sinbad realized. Very much so. But like Aisha, would rather die than let it show.

"It's okay, mister," she said again, reassuringly. "If Lady Maader wishes for the full list of regulations, then please, go look for it. But I'm sure there won't be a need for it."

Huh. So she did have something up her sleeve. And the clerk was all too happy to take her up on that offer and run for it. Mel spun on her heel then, fists trembling, but her face fixed into a mask of calm, as she held out the paper in front of her for Maader to see.

"I'll be short," she said, tugging the paper away before Maader could take it. "According to this contract, in cooperation with Mariadel Company, the Froder Company had sold goods worth over a hundred million in gold to the Alexius Family. But the amount ultimately delivered came down to twenty million, under a reasoning that remaining amount had _sunk_ during transport. But that is not true, is it, Lady Maader? And I have another piece of paper to prove it. Now tell me. What do you _think_ is going to happen if I take those papers right into the hands of the Alexius Family?"

Sinbad couldn't resist it, watching the woman lose more and more color with every other word Mel said had to be the most exhilarating part of the day. He watched her eyes widen, even more so in recognition.

"Y-you — that _slave_ —"

Sinbad subtly touched Mel's shoulder, drawing her a little away from the woman. Hand lingered closed to the hilt of his sword, but from the look in his eyes, Sinbad had a feeling he wouldn't need to do anything. Masrur looked more than willing to jump to Mel's defence if the situation called for it.

"I am not a slave anymore," Mel said. "And that's thanks to you. If _you_ hadn't thought me to be a nuisance, if _you_ hadn't decided to send me to Red Velvet as a part of your little game, I never would've been free. So thank you. But I am not nice enough to forgive everything else you've done to me, and countless others. I'm just _not_. So. I will make this simple for you." Her voice shook, but she pressed on. "Let us take Masrur. Otherwise, not only are we going to take Masrur with us anyway, this document is going to fall straight in the hands of the Alexius Family. As it _should_."

The woman tried to make another grab for the paper, but Masrur grabbed her wrist before she came anywhere close.

"I-impossible — you're just a slave, nobody is going to take you seriously—!"

"Maybe," Mel agreed, the calm of her voice not betraying the shudders racing down her spine. "No, actually, nobody will trust me. On my own, I'm nothing. A child. A slave. But that's fine. They don't have to trust _me_. But I'm not alone, am I? I'm not alone…"

"Exactly," Sinbad put in, just when it seemed like her facade would shatter in pieces. Held her steady, before she could fall over in unspoken relief. "So, are you certain that you want to push this issue any further?"

Mel crumpled the paper again and handed it to Sinbad, her hand cold as ice. Took Masrur's hand, much to the boy's surprise, and dragged him along with her. Right before they were about to leave the stadium, however, she stopped, glancing behind for a moment. "We're going to tell that mister that it's been settled, okay?"

"Yeah," Sinbad nodded. And whistled shortly.

The tiger rose to its feet immediately, coming to circle around Sinbad's leg. A little smug, Sinbad scratched him behind the ears. "One big coward, you are, aren't you? But you're a smart boy. Masrur is a friend now, he won't do anything. So go watch out for Mel for me, okay?"

Yellow eyes blinked at him with mild interest, as if asking what right he had to give _him_ orders.

Sinbad merely shrugged. "She's the one with the treats."

The tiger stalked off immediately.

"There, now with that settled…" Sinbad had to rein himself in, to hold the smile from growing a little too wide. "Do you still object to my demand?"

With sweat pouring down her face, muscles frozen into a grimace of pure hatred, the woman shivered. "You—you would do this… think you could get away with this…"

"I should be the one to say that. You built your business on slave trading, but when it didn't bring in as much money as you'd expected, you'd stooped as low as to pull the oldest, dirtiest fraud you possibly could have, on the family that is the backbone of this country—"

"Oh do _not_ start with me, the Alexius lost since lost their ability to be competent—"

"Oh," Sinbad noted with dull surprise. "So, you thought Froder would do better instead? Well, I suppose you would. But somehow I don't think that's the case."

Long nails tore into the sides of her dress. "What do you—"

"Let me tell you what I think happened, would you?" Sinbad cut her off. "It's a pretty simple story, isn't it? Froder couldn't force Mel to talk, so they sent her to you… but you didn't _want_ those papers found. Froder wanted more political influence, but most of the money went to you, didn't it? And you already got what you wanted, you didn't want to give your competition _more_. So you sent the girl half across the country, half across the continent… not much she can do from there, even if she _somehow_ had the papers, which you were certain she didn't. She is, after all, just a _slave_."

Sinbad snorted, with only a whiff of amusement. Realized he'd gotten most of it right, if only for the unintelligible stuttering from the other side.

"Goes to show that one shouldn't underestimate a child pushed in the corner," he said, all of the good humor wiped from his face. "I will give you one warning. Do not come after my company again. Don't go anywhere _near_ Napolia again. And tell your allies the same. If we find a whiff of either you or Froder anywhere on the east coast again, we will not let it slide.

"Have a good day."

And with that, he spun on his heel, and left, leaving the woman in a whimpering mess on the ground.

* * *

The local inn, Sinbad reflected, hadn't been the smartest place to schedule a rendezvous. But to find a note that relocated it to a public apothecary right outside the city, he decided, was much worse.

If only because that meant _more_ flying, and neither Mel or Masrur were taking it as well as he'd expected they would. Though arguably, they'd been through a lot, and it was the middle of the night. But next time, they better _not_ decide to nap on his shoulders, if only because that meant he had to be extra careful with how he handled the flying. All complaints aside, he didn't really want to shake them awake.

Even if, right now, they really deserved it. What the hell were they thinking, _drooling_ on his shoulders, damn it?

Discarded the thought almost immediately, when he spotted a single light dot in the distance. Closed in, and scowled. Ja'far's description had been scarce, at best, but it looked to be place. With half a dozen people camping out front, it would only make sense. He suspected there were more inside. Sinbad shifted his shoulder.

"Mel? Mel. Do those people look familiar?"

The girl stirred, small yawn escaping before she focused on the ground. Blinked dazedly, several times. And gasped.

"Ah. Looks like we're in the right place, then."

By now, Masrur was beginning to stir, too.

"Wait," Mel asked. "This isn't… where are we?"

"Outside of Remano… the town is a few miles back north. Ja'far says they relocated here, just in case."

"They did…? Wait, that's—"

"Mel!" a scream came from the ground.

"Eh? Rene!?"

"Mel!"

"A friend?" Sinbad nudged. But the girl was already halfway to tears.

" _Yes_. But what are you… Aisha did it again… she… ah—" she blinked, as her feet touched down. Looked up at Sinbad, and nodded in thanks. Then ran to wrap one of the girls in a hug. Just as the other campers began to stir.

"Want to meet them, first? Or do you want to come with me inside?" Sinbad asked, discarding the equip, and resheathing the sword back at his hip. "My best guess, they're all former slaves. Aisha's reckless idiocy seems to have left quite an impression. I'll be going straight in."

He noted the wide-eyed stare directed towards Mel and her friends, and smiled. Even wider, when he spotted Ja'far waiting at the door. "All went well, I suppose?"

The boy shrugged, but stepped aside to let Sinbad enter. "Could've been better, I suppose. They put her through… a lot… to say the least. She'll need treatment, but the herbalist thinks it's not life threatening."

"Ah. I'm glad to hear that. And the slaves?"

Uh-oh, that glare said nothing good.

"You said we leave it to _her_ —"

Sinbad winced, oh he could already tell this was going to turn ugly—

"What the hell do you expect us to do with over a dozen people, huh!? For all intents and purposes, we broke the _law_ , stole the slaves and Aisha's pretty damn made sure that the authorities would run a homicide investigation, too! How the hell do you intend for us to get out of this, _huh_!?"

"Er… well… we'll figure it out…"

"Of course we will figure it out, it's not like we have any choice but to _figure it out!_ " But he inhaled then, deep, and calming, clearly, judging from how much more normal he looked now. "I'm not sure whose idiocy it was though, yours or hers, but at least we seem to have _somebody_ on our side. Not that I think it will do us a lot of good. But you have a message waiting on you."

"Eh? Really? What does it say?"

Ja'far glared at him, but, thankfully, did not break into another rant. "I didn't open it. One look at the guy that dropped it off told me everything I needed to know. But we can sort that out later. I left Vittel with Aisha, but I doubt she's awake. Do you want to visit anyway?"

Sinbad grinned lightly. "Well, she did say we were partners in crime… guess that's a little more literal now than it used to be. Lead the way."

As it turned out, they didn't really have a long way to go. The apothecary was small, and the owners clearly accommodating, something Sinbad decided to personally thank them for, later. But for now…

Vittel was napping off in the chair on the corner, head against the wall and arms crossed. Would've almost passed for awake, if not for the soft snores. And in the bed, with her face buried in the pillows, Aisha slept, eerily peaceful, a clean piece of gauze glued to her cheek. For somebody who'd always looked a little sunburnt, the skin was now almost milky white, with deep, dark circles around her eyes.

"Hmm… Ja'far."

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about this. But I don't think you'd object if I suggested we hire the girls in the company. Right?" From that look alone, he had a scary feeling that he was walking on dangerously thin ice. Well, might as well dig himself in further. "Think about it. They're both smart, capable, and loyal to a fault. Sure they get in trouble, but after everything, I'd hate to leave them hanging."

"Even if they got us mixed up with the law? Worse, a pair of wealthy slave trading companies and a bunch of crazy pirates?"

"One coin, two sides, remember?"

"... I really should've expected to hear you say that."

Sinbad snorted. But smiled, anyway. Would've felt much better if they'd all gotten through all of this unscathed, but he'd take what he could get. _She's going to be okay._ _It's all going to be okay._ "I have a feeling they'd fit right in with everyone else. Don't you?"

Ja'far released a long-suffering sigh. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Though maybe he did say that, but Sinbad could see it in his face, too. Ja'far had no intention to object. Not really. And that made it all the better.

"Speaking of," he said, a memory popping up suddenly. "Come with me, Ja'far. I need to introduce you to Masrur. If I'm given to understand what Mel told me correctly, it doesn't appear he'll mind staying with us for the time being. I have a feeling you're going to like him. He's a very interesting, very dangerous Fanalis. Just wait till you see what he can do with giant swords, it is _amazing._ "

"A Fana…? Are you telling me you just brought in _another_ stray?!" Oh he could see the color draining from his face. " _What the hell, Sinbad?!_ "

Ah, that's more like it. Going home was going to be interesting, to say the least.


End file.
